The Final Test
by YuriManuganov
Summary: The Q decide to test humanity once more, but as cultures, species and universes collide things are thrown into chaos and it becomes a nightmare for all involved. One can only plant so many seeds before they are overrun by the forest they have wrought. The universes of Star Trek, Star Wars, Cthulhu and several surprises are not meant to collide, even under a Q.
1. Prologue

The Final Test

Prologue

To early humans the greater universe did not exist. It did not need to exist. It did not need their attention, concern or fear. It was an incomprehensible reality that did not cross their undeveloped minds. To them, the instinctual need to eat and survive was all pressing.

Early humans were as much a part of the natural ecosystem as a ground slug or big cat of the savanna; upon waking each morning their instinct was to find food. Each morning was the beginning of a new adventure, and with no memory of the previous, it was an endless instinctual cycle.

Over the next million years, these early humans would slowly develop more complex thoughts and emotions. In time their ability to plan beyond the immediate future was apparent. Tools and weapons were used to assist them in their everyday cycle of food gathering and shelter. For the first time on Earth, a species could break the endless cycle of the previous day. All biological energy up to this point was used to maintain this endless loop with no single calorie left to spare. Now with the development of tools and weapons, excess energy was available and allowed for a greater development of the human race. Within a million years, plantation, livestock, construction, and self-governance were now common place. The human brain had developed beyond its basic instinctual need and allowed for wonder, passion, love, hate and countless emotions totally unknown to any other living creature. No longer would they glance up at the sky in a passing thought. Now their eyes would bore into the heavens and wonder what was there. What were those bright shiny dots in the night sky? And what was beyond them.

Human progress was now moving forward at breakneck speed. Technology was allowing for greater and greater scientific leaps of invention. The progression of all things material was improving, but not necessarily for the betterment of mankind. With superior brains came superior ambition. Wars were fought and country lines were redrawn. More and more resources were being channeled into weapons of war until the treasury of countries were depleted and wide scale conscription was mandated.

World War 3 was the culmination of their superior ambition. Mass starvation and disease spread over the globe as each nations collapse triggered the onset of mass genocide through various causes. 'The Great Cleanse' is now what it is referred to in history books. The history of the world was almost snuffed out, lost forever. It would take time, but progress was made. The survivors banded together and promised never to allow this to happen again. Energy, creativity, resources and desire would be channeled into the betterment of mankind. Within a few generations the first warp drive was created and contact was made with an alien race. The first of many as the warp signature was a beacon to the rest of the galaxy that mankind was ready for the stars. Social progress was made over the next century and the United Federation of Planets was formed. An alliance of 150 different worlds spread across 4000 light-years. While each world remains independent they form a political and social unity where each could rely on another in a time of need. Wars were fought and won, but this time it was not human against human. It was the collective and democratic will of the whole, The 'Federation' would defend the rights and freedoms of other races throughout the Alpha Quadrant. No longer would wars be started due to power, money or land, but for the protection of all sentient life. The United Federation of Planets had and still has a keen interest in exploration and science; to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.

Modern humans now stretch out with eyes wide open, moving steadfastly towards their bright horizon on the cusp of their vision. The boundary of science is being pushed and so is their understanding of what they seek. Driven by their wonder and natural instinct to explore, humans are devoting a great many resources to exploration and discovery. And yet as they search and learn there is an unmistakable and unforgiving truth. The universe is a dangerous place, and certainly not for the faint of heart. Unlike human ancestors, the universe now matters, the need to know, the need to pay attention is pressing. And yet with all these advances and developments, they are limited by 'Human Nature'. The concept of right and wrong, life and death, and time and space are all human constructs. The universe, however, comprises more than the dreams and imagination of mankind.

Beyond the stars and galaxies are deeper realities of space and time where things are no longer things and places no longer places; where all force and matter is perverted, stretched and torn. Black gulfs with no end, no beginning, no distance, no direction... and what may lurk in the darkness no person can know...


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Routine Mission

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise-D**

Orbiting a lowly star at the end of its long life, the U.S.S. Enterprise-D waited for the inevitable. Flagship of the United Federation of Planets, its current assignment to study the multitude of particles and energy signatures abundant during a supernova; an area of study in which information is proportional to observed opportunities.

Captain Picard sat in a small white chair adjacent large windows that stretched the length of his quarters. A thoughtful finger circled his upper lip while the crimson light from the red giant star created shadows that extended long and wide. His eyes, protected by the dimming feature, remained fixated on the center mass of the dying star; it's bubbling cauldron of nuclear froth splashing and sloshing along its multi-million-kilometer diameter. But the star did not occupy his thoughts, they drifted beyond it, to the future, and to the past.

As Captain of the Federation's flagship, he often received classified information before it disseminated into the fleet. Moments ago, an encrypted message from Admiral Paris indicating a disturbing uptrend in activity from The Dominion piqued his interest.

 _We know nothing of them, but we must learn all we can,_ thought the captain.

Deep Space 9 which orbits Bajor is the Alpha Quadrants first line of defense if ever an attack came. Admiral Paris stressed no actionable intelligence is available on any impending invasion; but Starfleet continued to listen, not wanting to be caught off guard as they had been years ago against the Borg.

 _We have no evidence either way, only speculation, and that can be dangerous._

The Borg attack upon Starfleet and devastating loss at Wolf 359, stretched the remaining fleet throughout Federation territory. _We were caught off guard..._ Leaning back and placing his head against the chair, his gaze shifted to the far wall.

Picard, then named Locutus of Borg, orchestrated the campaign against Federation forces; victims by the tens of thousand still fresh in his mind. Their terrified screams and cries for help still waking him in the deepest of dreams. _This can never be allowed to happen again… our greatest threat still waits and plans for our assimilation. They will be back._

Closing his eyes, the entire spectrum of Starfleet's reality came to him, the Milky Way.

 _We know so little of what awaits us, the Q did teach us a few things, our arrogance perhaps put in check… there is so much we do not know._

His mind's eye overlooked the Galaxy. Broken into four quadrants, and if described as the face of a clock, appears as such: The top left is the Gamma, moving clockwise to the right brings the Delta, downward towards the bottom right is the Beta, and finally to the lower left, Alpha. This being where Starfleet, Klingons, Cardassians, Gorn, Ferrengi and many more reside.

 _Seventy or eighty years to cross the galaxy at our current speeds… maybe more, fuel would run out… we have only charted eighteen percent… the Borg in the Delta Quadrant will come no doubt, but when?_

A door chime interrupted his thoughts.

"Come," said Picard, sweeping aside his concerns. The door hissed open and in strode Commander William Riker, his first officer. "What can I do for you Will?"

"Data estimates the star will go Nova in less than 8 minutes. I thought you would appreciate the view and technological readouts," said Riker with an exaggerated level of enthusiasm. Picard smiled and pulled himself out of his chair. While only sitting for less than an hour, it seemed upwards of a day. He walked out of his quarters, his first officer in tow.

Picard glanced sideways towards his lumbering friend,

"Have you ever witnessed a supernova Will?"

"Truthfully no, only in simulations and back at the Academy, you?"

"Yes actually, during my first assignment on board the Stargazer,"

Will's eyebrow raised at the thought of a fresh new captain having to sit for a few weeks outside a solar system while the supernova took shape.

"Doesn't sound too exciting for a new post,"

"Well, they say no two supernovae are the same, I hope this will be interesting" Both officers stepped into the turbo lift and whisked up towards the bridge.

"Captain on the bridge" announced Data, halfway out of the Captain's chair and moving towards 'ops.' The Android Lieutenant Commander had been monitoring the events of the star for the last 157 hours without rest. To the surprise of Data and the Federation models, the star's demise continued to accelerate faster than expected with no clear reason as to why. At present, the red giant's radius of 247 million kilometers could only last so long. Precious nuclear fuel, the building blocks of the galaxy diminished by the hour. As Data jockeyed into his seat and Picard took his own, Riker put a big boot on the support frame of 'ops' and leaned in to take a closer look at the instrument panel.

Riker and Picard had been informed two days ago that the star's helium reserve appeared to be shrinking at a 28% increased rate. While every supernova brought slightly different results, all found it surprising that the mathematical models could be so wrong. Data volunteered to monitor the situation 'round the clock,' and while Picard and Riker knew it would not affect him, it was still deemed a choice to do so.

Riker rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger as he tried to understand the readings.

"Any idea when this thing is going to start to collapse?" He asked fifteen times in the last few hours, but each time he figured he might get a different answer.

Data's fingers flew over the controls,

"As far as I can tell, there is-" A loud beep sprang from Worf's tactical station and everyone turned towards the back of the bridge,

"Report," asked Picard as he inched a little closer to the edge of his seat.

Worf's display indicated a new reading, evident in his ever-widening eyes,

"Captain!" his deep voice resonating throughout the bridge. "I am detecting core ejection, distance..." his eyes darted back and forth along his tactical console. And for what seemed like an eternity, said nothing. Riker glanced down at Data who shared Worf's perplexed look while eyeing his own controls.

Picard shot out of his chair and spun around to face his security chief.

"Report Mr. Worf!" The bridge crew tensed, and all eyes lasered in on their stations, looking for any sign of danger.

Trying to piece together what he observed before saying another word, the Klingon struggled to form a sentence.

"Captain, sensors detected core ejection, and now... it's...it's gone," bafflement more than apparent in the Klingon's voice. Riker heaved himself off the support arm of Data's station and rushed towards tactical at the rear of the bridge.

As Riker headed towards tactical, Data delivered his analysis,

"Confirmed Captain, core ejection detected for 5 point 38 seconds. However, I am not able to determine how that is possible without the collapse of the outer shell of the star."

Taking only a moment to realize something is terribly wrong; Picard shared a concerned look with his first officer.

"Yellow Alert, back us off 100 million kilometers." Alarm klaxons filled the ship as every on-duty officer hurried to their stations for real-time task management and situational updates. Picard walked towards the view screen, the red giant filling every inch. _How can we detect something that hasn't happened yet…_ "Data, are we sure that we actually detected core material being ejected?"

The Android's right eyebrow rose as he processed new information flashing across his panel,

"Confir-" A loud intruding beep cut-off Data mid-sentence, his neck jerked to the side in confusion, absorbing the new information to process. The Captain watched the Lt. Commander's unbelievably fast fingers fly across the controls. "Sensors are detecting a complete collapse of the photosphere on the far side of the star."

Lurching over science station three at the back of the bridge, Riker whirled around in bewilderment,

"Data, how the hell can half a star collapse?"

Picard exchanged a knowing look with his first officer and nodded in agreement.

"Red alert."

His lips pursed tightly together and arms folded as he turned his head slowly back towards the main viewer. He heard the bridge turbolift door hiss open but ignored it for a moment. Counselor Troi had just reported to the bridge and took her seat to the left of the Captain's chair. She could sense bewilderment, worry, stress, and excitement.

For several minutes Riker and Picard circled the bridge asking questions of each officer to help determine what exactly had happened. A display at the rear of the bridge helped create a clearer picture of the situation. The graphics outline showed the red giant, but instead of a supermassive sphere, the star looked chopped in half from top to bottom. One-half collapsed, one-half still in the final stages. All parties now worked on this impossible problem. Lt. Commander La Forge in engineering communicated back and forth with Data while Riker and Worf sifted through sensor logs from the last several days. Picard found himself eavesdropping on Data's conversation to try and catch any keywords which would help unravel the mystery. He did not need to wait long.

"Captain, I am detecting heavy graviton emissions,"

"From the core of the star?"

Data shook his head,

"Negative, attempting to localize…327 by 18 by 103."

Riker had been following along on the tactical display verifying the numbers, but the location of the graviton waves made little sense,

"That's 50 million kilometers from the star's core, the ejection material has already left the core on the far side and it's headed outward," remarked Riker. Every first-year cadet knew that graviton waves only came into being a microsecond before a star's core exploded.

"Confirmed," Data spun around in his chair to face the rest of the bridge. "I am unable to explain-" More beeps interrupted his analysis which seemed commonplace on this day.

"Commander!" Worf's hairy finger guiding Riker's attention to the correct readout,

"Unknown ship detected, 50 million kilometers from the center of the star!" reported Riker incredulously. "It's on the far side, inside what should be within the red giant's radius."

Data confirmed the reading,

"Unknown vessel inside the radius of the star. It appears to have emerged after the star collapsed,"

Picard stood quickly from his chair,

"On screen, life Signs?"

The view screen flickered for a moment and then showed a tactical overlay of the solar system. The red giant star occupying the middle, with the far side completely collapsed while the near side remained ballooned-out but stable. A small green blip 50 million kilometers from the stars' core on the collapsed side indicated the location of the recently detected ship. But a looming danger blipped along the screen. Moving outwards at 40% the speed of light, core ejecta headed straight for the new arrival; the threat more than apparent.

Worf had been scanning the ship in an attempt to identify life signs but his effort brought little result.

"Captain, the ship is heavily damaged. I am unable to determine its origin or its complement. Heavy graviton and chronometric particles are disrupting scans."

Picard turned to face tactical,

"Hail them Mr. Worf." The sound of hailing frequencies echoed through the bridge, but no reply came.

"Again" ordered Riker. Worf sent another communication attempt, this time using all known frequencies; no reply.

Picard slowly turned back towards the viewer, his eyes fixated on the massive ejecta material heading straight towards the unknown vessel.

 _Why would there be chronometric particles?_

He half-consciously put his hand on Data's shoulder.

"Time until impact Mr. Data?"

"7 minutes, 43 seconds Captain."

Stomping between science station three and tactical, Riker voiced his concerns,

"Any idea why there would be chronometric particles here Data? Is it from a singularity at the center of the star?"

The Federation understood time travel to the extent that these unique particles only became detectable when a time-event occurred. Starfleet detected these particles as early as the NX-1s stellar journeys 220 years ago, but their appearance remained so seldom that studying these elusive particles was almost impossible.

Data had been working on his own theory among the bridge discussion, one of the many advantages of being an android. And as precious seconds ticked by his theory began to form.

He turned towards the captain,

"A singularity has not yet formed at the center of the star. The chronometric particles are widespread, covering 700 billion square kilometers. I have a theory. I believe we are witnessing a time-event, where half of the star has been accelerated through time. This would explain why only half the star has gone nova, while the rest is still in its final stage. It would also explain the widespread chronometric particles without a singularity present."

Picard's eyelids fluttered while he absorbed the information.

"Is the time-event originating from the vessel?"

Data offered one of his perplexed yet skeptical looks, his eyes flashed back and forth, analyzing at the very limit of his positronic brain, searching for an available answer.

"Unknown."

"Captain…" Troi slowly stood, as if in a trance and looking beyond the viewscreen, her face wincing from the mental pain. Across the solar system, she could feel it. Not present a moment ago, it now cried out in agony and fear. "I sense…" her fingers now holding the side of her temples. "…confusion...pain..." Picard looked up at Riker who had locked eyes with him. Both men knew what needed to be done, both men knew no other choice existed. With a slight nod of the head, Picard turned back to the main viewer.

"Calculate course to intercept," ordered Riker as he stomped down the ramp towards his chair. The bridge lights throbbed red as shields rose to maximum power. Riker slid into his seat and pulled his side console towards him, looking at the course which needed to be plotted around the red giant.

"Captain, recommend we set course 337 mark 8. That should keep us skimming along the corona at 1 million kilometers and allow us to cut in where the star has already collapsed."

"Make it so," ordered Picard as he marched back towards his chair.

Data eyed Ensign Rodriguez who graduated only two months ago. Beads of sweat formed on his temple, and the jitters of the unknown caused his imagination to race.

"Sync telemetry systems on ...three...two...one...mark."

Data and Rodriguez's fingers flew over the controls as they coordinated their current flight path as well as subsequent maneuvering around the star. The viewer switched from tactical overlay to real-time visual; the red giant's foaming and frothing nuclear surface filling the screen.

As the Enterprise hurried towards its destination, the red giant's bubbling surface skimmed along even as the Enterprise entered Warp. Usually under warp conditions, the stars elongated; but not at these distances. The red giant's enormous 1.4 billion kilometer circumference meant that even ships at warp would take minutes to circumvent her.

The Enterprise raced along the Star's horizontal axis, heading towards the seemingly impossible 'edge' of the star. And as the Enterprise made quick work of the distance, Data optimized the flight path and moved the Enterprise closer and closer to the surface. The top of the main-viewer nothing more than a blinding red blur as the nuclear furnace streaked past. Energized solar wind and fluctuating magnetic fields pummeled the artificial dampening fields and control surfaces of the Galaxy Class ship as the last of the helium reserves dwindled to eventual exhaustion.

Data's eyes lifted and fell, concentrating on the display as well as controls,

"Approaching chronometric field in 8 seconds, preparing to adjust heading towards the alien vessel,"

The Enterprise prepared to make a sharp turn inwards towards the center of the star as soon as they reached the , that for all manner of reason, should not exist. Much like the corner of a building, the Enterprise needed to tightly follow the contour.

"Proceed with course adjustment," instructed Picard as he monitored telemetry on his arm control.

Troi sat quiet but her concentration did not abate, she still felt the mind and emotions of something. Unable to tell if it is human or alien; the thought-waves came like the wind on an open prairie. Fear, confusion, bewilderment.

"Captain, whoever is on that vessel is in great pain," Picard turned to face his counselor and her invaluable insight. No other Captain in the fleet would have known a person or alien needed to be rescued. A remarkable tool if used appropriately, and Deanna served all humanity with it. There existed more than one occasion when sensors failed and the captain relied on her ability, this time being no different. Picard gave Riker a nod and instructions made their way down to transporter room 3 and Sickbay in preparation for the transport.

"20 seconds" stated Worf flatly. The bridge continued to shake and buffet against cosmic turbulence, the shield generators repulsing the cosmic radiation and star particles that littered the system. Shields while invaluable, created a double-edged sword, as no transporter beam known could penetrate them. To rescue the sole survivor of the stricken craft, both warp and shields would have to be disengaged. Data readied himself for simultaneous action, something he already computed 100,000 times, taking into account all variables he could conceive. Rodriguez who sat to his right monitored the situation intently, but with the 'con' slaved to 'ops,' he felt like more of a secondary set of eyes than an active participant.

"10 seconds….9….8…..7…..6….5….4…..3…preparing to cut warp drive and disengage the shields" reported Data. And as the last few numbers seemed to stretch into eternity, there came a tremendous shudder as the warp drive cut and all the free-floating particles from the star hit the unprotected hull. Internal dampeners fought against inertia to keep the crew in their seats and gravity at normal levels. Bridge circuits burst, resistors overloaded, and sparks flew into the air. And while the core remnants did not yet reach them, the uncountable gigatons of particles flowing like a torrential river made their presence known.

"Bridge to transporter room 3, transport," barked Riker. An acknowledgment came from a nameless ensign and as fast as it had begun, it ended. Shields activated until a more thorough scan could commence on the stricken vessel. Worf made his customary bridge exit towards sickbay while Data concentrated on analyzing the debris. Due to it's near total destruction, no sensor could ascertain the details of the broken ship, with millions of pieces scattered in all directions. Data surmised it had been cylindrical and no more than 80 meters across, but that is all that is known. Propulsion, weapons, and sensors all unidentifiable due to a combination of interference, near total destruction, and their unknown qualities. Over the next critical minutes, scans and analysis continued, but time, so essential, counted down. Core material, measured in trillions of tons, headed their way that no Federation shield could resist.

"Is there anything we need to transport into a shuttle bay?" asked Picard, as he made his way over to Data.

"Due to our inability to analyze the materials and structures of the craft, I advise against it. We do not know if they are volatile, especially in this condition."

"I concur Captain, it's too risky," seconded Riker.

Picard took a moment to think everything over. How an alien craft had penetrated the Federations monitoring stations needed to be answered, but bringing potential hazardous material aboard seemed unwarranted.

 _Perhaps the survivor can address some of our questions…_

"Bring us outside the system Mr. Data, monitor the star and report as needed." Picard looked to his right, "I think it's time you and I met our new guest, number one."

Will nodded and extended his arm towards the nearest turbo lift, with Deanna Troi hurrying over to join them on their descent. The silent ride down allowed each experienced officer time to contemplate what had happened. An accelerated supernova, chronometric particles, strange graviton waves, and an unidentified ship appearing suddenly in the heart of a supernova, all brought a cause for concern individually. Here, they all occurred in a single system within ten minutes.

No clear answer came to the trio.

Why would a ship maroon itself in a supernova it created? Did the ship create the supernova? Why would a ship decide to jump through time to the middle of a supernova? How can only half a star be susceptible to a time-event? All these questions and more poured through each of their experienced brains. In addition to these problems, the counselor continued to mentally 'listen' to the patient who now rested in sickbay. She felt relieved the pain the passenger felt now subsided and that only a state of surprise and shock remained.

The trio rounded the last corner before reaching Sickbay when Riker slowed down to comment.

"If that ship is responsible for the time-event, we could be dealing with something dangerous, perhaps even a danger to the ship," Picard nodded to himself in agreement. Will's skepticism seemed justified. They would need to determine what threat this passenger represented, and quickly. Troi opened her mouth to chime in when Picard's communicator beeped,

"Picard here,"

"Captain," said Dr. Crusher from sickbay, unaware the group stood just outside the entrance. "You had better come down here."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Stage is Set

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away, lay the tattered remains of a once thriving democracy. For 25,000 years the Republic inspired and fostered voices from millions of worlds to gather and address their issues and concerns. The great democracy stretched for 75,000 light years encompassing millions of star systems and trillions of beings. Integral to this governance were the Jedi, guardians of peace and justice throughout the Old Republic; that is before the dark times, before the Empire. Events of this particular piece of history are now well known, but to the typical denizen of the Imperial Galaxy, facts have been twisted and distorted to suit the specific narrative of the time. Now, the history and establishment of the Jedi remained shrouded and twisted; their once golden status diminished, their legacy in flames.

Chancellor Palpatine, now referred to as the Emperor, played the central role in the downfall of the Republic. Through his will, Darth Vader helped hunt down and wipe out the Jedi. The goal was not just their destruction, but to erase them from the collective memory of the Galaxy. Truth, justice, and freedom were stomped into oblivion, replaced by consolidated power and fear. Vader had been consumed by the darkside of the Force; his hatred of the Jedi, especially Kenobi, fueled his insatiable thirst for death and destruction. Whatever Kenobi cherished, must be destroyed; as it was he who Vader blamed for the passing of his beautiful wife, Padme.

Vader's misplaced hope of a potential resurrection proved to be his undoing. The Emperor had shared a story of his own Master Plagueis cheating death; with revival a distinct possibility. Clinging to this sliver of hope, Vader knew the Emperor used him for power and conquest, but to the Dark Lord, the ends justified the means. Reigning destruction down upon his enemies, revenge took time, but ultimately came three years ago when Obi-Wan Kenobi fell to Vader's blade on board the ill-fated original Deathstar. And yet as Ben Kenobi fell, the aching sickness from the loss of his wife could not be cured. 

Victory on the Hoth planet brought little satisfaction as the Rebels managed to flee without significant losses, scouring away to distant corners of the galaxy to regroup and rebuild. Perhaps Vader would have felt better about Admiral Ozzel's bumbling of the operation had rebel leadership been captured. The mistaken Admiral had brought the fleet of star destroyers out of hyperspace too close to the Hoth system, thinking surprise was wiser than stealth. Vader had seen to it that the Admiral would never again lead an attack force. That was one week ago, and this is where the future of the story unfolds.

 **Imperial Galaxy - Super Star Destroyer Executor**

A fleet of star destroyers now under the command of Admiral Piett combed a dense asteroid field in search of the Millennium Falcon. In a deadly game of cat and mouse, the small cargo transport avoided the Imperial fleet in the churning and seemingly endless sea of building size rocks. Four-dozen star destroyers and escort ships were dispatched to help track and trap the famous rebel. A half dozen tie fighters had given chase, but now all fell silent, either destroyed or lost in the maze of rubble. Starting slow, but slowly building, anxiety spread among the fleet's crew as each passing day brought a steady stream of bad news. Vader's patience ran thin as he stood on the bridge of his command ship Executor. In front of him were three holographic captains, each from a different star destroyer within the asteroid field. Interference from dense iron rocks created havoc with their communications systems; the captain's images shimmering and flickering as the conversation unfolded.

"And that Lord Vader was the last time they appeared in any of our scopes. Considering the amount of damage we have sustained, they must have been destroyed," reported Captain Needa, his hologram flickering from interference. Radar and electromagnetic scans proved useless in the iron filled asteroid field, and so his deduction came from nothing but an erroneous assumption.

"No captain, they're alive. I want every ship available to sweep the asteroid field until they are found." Once Vader delivered an order, there was no rebuttal; captains bowed and switched off their holo-nets. Moving only a few steps, Vader noticed Admiral Piett walking hurriedly towards him,

"Lord Vader,"

"Yes Admiral, what is it?"

"The Emperor commands you make contact with him,"

"Move the ship out of the asteroid field so we can send a clear transmission."

Several weeks passed since the last holo-net with the Emperor, and Vader felt anxious to report the attack against the rebels as a complete failure. As he strode towards the holo-net chamber, rocks the size of buildings crumbled to dust against the powerful shields of the super star destroyer as it plowed its way out of the asteroid field. Nearly impervious to asteroids, the Executor's screens measured hundreds of times that of it's smaller cousins. That however did not make serving on her any less stressful. Crew members learned quickly to avoid the unpleasant and frightful lift rides with the Sith Lord. Rumors even circulated that people had been killed for just looking at him. Space legends to be sure, for the truth of the matter is that few crew members had been killed directly by Darth Vader. Only a handful a month were executed on the spot, and always for gross negligence. 

Vader entered the communication chamber and made his way down the steps to the holo-pad and knelt to await his Master. An ebbing sound of energy filled the room and the face of the Emperor shimmered into view.

"What is thy bidding... my Master?"

The Emperor's face had aged terribly, years of darkside use left deep chasms in his wrinkled yellow skin, trading life for power.

"There has been a great disturbance in the force,"

"I have felt it,"

"The young rebel who destroyed the first Deathstar is no doubt the offspring of Anakin Skywalker."

"How is that possible?" Vader's skepticism detectable even through the filtration mask and artificial lungs.

"Search your feelings Lord Vader, you know it to be true."

A pause came into the conversation as Vader felt for the truth, searching his feelings which he trusted immensely. Finally, he answered his Master,

"He is just a boy and Obi-wan can no longer help him," _He is Obi-wan's final failure_.

"He could destroy us, the son of Skywalker cannot become a Jedi."

Vader at this moment felt unsure if he could destroy his own son, the loss of Padme being enough for one lifetime.

"If he could be turned, he would become a powerful ally."

The Emperor liked this idea, not occurring to him until now. All Jedi's were a threat to his rule, _but if one could be turned..._

"Yes...yes….can it be done?"

"He will join us or die, Master."

"Good...good...and now there is something else I wish to discuss with you my old friend. I told you long ago that there were secrets to the force I had not known regarding death, and more importantly resurrection." At this moment Vader ceased to breathe as if all the air were sucked out of his mechanical lungs. "I have resurrected an old apprentice, and with each passing day I draw nearer my ultimate goal, to-"

"Padme," said Vader longingly. This came unexpectedly. The Emperor paused, not anticipating his apprentice's feelings for her to be so strong after so long.

"It will take time, but it can be done. However, ... there is a distraction, our astrometric center has reported a wormhole in the Caleise system, leading to an uncharted region of space beyond our galaxy. Discontinue your search for the Rebels, return to me immediately."

"Yes, my Master."

The Emperor's face vanished and the room fell dark once again, only the rhythmic breathing filled the empty void. Vader remained on one knee, his mechanical legs unyielding to fatigue, ache, or pain. Minutes passed but he did not move. A state of shock and complete surprise sweeping over his body. His mind traveled back to Mustafar, back to Naboo. Padme. _It is a trap_ but what could he do? It is more control he knew, _but she is all he has left_ , a memory yes, but perhaps more in due time. As his mind calmed, he felt dark energies of the force seething and bubbling with delight around the resurrected apprentice. It could be no other, Darth Maul. No illusion, no trick, he had been resurrected to carry out the will of the Emperor, to kill, destroy, and conquer.

 **Imperial Galaxy - Coruscant**

High above the sprawling city lights of Coruscant sat the Emperor, Master of the galaxy and it's unknown future. Unknown only because of an orchestration of future events; for the Emperor visitor is unique, the third time in which it made its presence known. And now, in a private chamber, the fate of the galaxy rested in their hands,

"I told you it would work...your excellency. I am after all... the real Master" spoke the brown-haired man with contempt. This man, this thing, stretched himself out in a chair usually reserved for a top aide or servant. The Emperor grew used to his antics over the course of several months and now took them as meaningless showmanship.

"Q" the letters dripped from the Emperor's thin lips, "The rebels are still a threat to us, one resurrected Sith will not be enough." Q sat up with an exasperated look on his face. Dressed in traditional Jedi garbs, they irritated the Emperor to no end. Everything he did and said seemed to be a mockery of all the accomplishments the Emperor had achieved; yet this untouchable and unfathomably powerful being did as it pleased. The darkside of the Force recognized this man as pure energy, not alive, not inanimate. Just power incarnate.

"Do you want me to give you all the answers Palpy?." Any man or droid would have died then and there. "I'm offering you an entire galaxy, all you need to do is cease it." Q grasped for the air, pretending to catch something in his hand. "As I have mentioned before, they are weak, pathetic; much like yourselves but to a greater extent. No galaxy-wide government, it will be so easy!" Q strolled around the large chamber, flipping his Jedi lightsaber in the air and trying to balance it on the top of his hand.

"How can I trust you?" Asked the Emperor. Q stopped and looked at him with a puzzled look on his face,

"Isn't Darth Maul enough?"

"No."

Q looked at him mischievously,

"Your Excellency...if I wanted I could splash you to the four winds, your atoms blasted throughout all creation. I do not need to trick you, I simply need to tell you what is, and what isn't." The Emperor said nothing, only listening and accepting the terms. "If you can't handle a few Rebel scum and conquer an unimportant galaxy I am literally placing in your hands…" he did not need to finish his sentence.

"Yes…" The Emperor's eyes flashed with energy, he could feel it within his grasp. There were many details to work out, but they would come, "...my finest admirals…"

"Yes yes, I was listening, you wouldn't have known of course...but.. Thrawn, clever for a mortal actually. He prefers to stay and take care of the Rebels before moving into the new galaxy... insightful for a bug." Q took a moment to needlessly reflect, more out of habit than necessity, "If you do not go, I will have to nudge those in the Milky Way to come here instead. The test for humanity will commence, one way or another." Q raised his hand to snap himself away, but the Emperor had one last question and held up his finger in anticipation,

"Are you helping the humans in the other galaxy?"

"They wouldn't know what to do with advice if I gave it to them, they are self-righteous, arrogant and closed minded. This is now the second test I am giving them, the first they failed; begging me to return them to their small corner of the galaxy. This time it will be different," he said with a smile. "There will be no stopping this test. You see my liege, with you and the Sith there is no denying your true motives and desires. You do not pretend to be something you are not. Your galaxy is of course guilty as charged but that does not mean you cannot be a tool so I may judge others. You do not need to thank me for this opportunity or my little present. Darth Maul will indirectly keep Anakin inline, which is your biggest fear. I can read your mind, there are no secrets that I do not know." and with a snap he disappeared into another realm.

The Emperor now sat alone for the first time in over an hour. _Q is right_. _Vader is now on a tighter leash than before, he can never be allowed to discover the truth._ And no one knew it but the Emperor and Q. Whereas Maul represented the perfect apprentice, without ambition to rule or overthrow his Master. His memory erased, changed and adapted to the idea that the Emperor teleported him from the past just before Obi-wan sliced him in half on Naboo. This story would circulate among the galaxy, and the power of the Emperor would be even greater. And while his fictitious power grew, his actual power waned. The darkside of the Force usually allowed for great insight into the future, all possible futures. Now though, it seemed tainted. Turbulent and erratic images filled the Emperor's mind, a clear picture unable to form. Each day it grew worse, and when he had asked the Q if he were the cause, the question was ignored. He would need to rely more on his intuition and advisors than clairvoyance. He flicked the communication button with his finger,

"Inform high command, strategic meeting to commence when Lord Vader arrives. Be sure to send for Grand Admiral Thrawn."

 **Milky Way - Earth - Starfleet Command**

"….you can see now that these phenomena are not localized, but are occurring in random locations across the quadrant, possibly further. Spacetime phenomena, unexplained occurrences, and two unwelcome visitors, one on Phobos the other in a damaged ship our sensor network didn't detect. Lieutenant Barkley's report is available now on our secure system, we are awaiting the Enterprise's report shortly. We do not know if any of these are linked, or the cause. We will issue another briefing at 0800, dismissed."

The lights flicked on and the illustrative holograms disappeared. Admiral Paris finished his presentation to the assembled Captains, Admirals, and other senior Starfleet officers. New and strange readings were flooding in from all sectors. Planets shifting orbit, stars shrinking and disappearing, unexplained gravitational waves and radiation. Less than an hour ago a man had been rescued from the frozen surface of Phobos, the largest of two moons orbiting Mars. This person had been found on the surface, apparently appearing out of thin air.

Admiral Paris exited the room muttering to himself as he reviewed more files on his datapad, the keen eyes of Commander Sloan following his every step. Sloan whose face looked more like a skeleton with skin, stood to leave the assembly area. His cheekbones so prominent that he even considered corrective surgery in the academy. Thin, fit, and focused like a laser, all his attention now focused on the data tablet in his hand. The report from Phobos seemed bizarre and needed greater scrutiny. As the Admiral eluded too, a man wearing aged combat gear appearing suddenly out of nowhere, screaming and ripping at his helmet. The vacuum of space nearly killing him before being detected by accident by a passing shuttlecraft and dragged into a substation for rescue. The officer who made the report estimated the man had been exposed to the vacuum of space for at least nineteen minutes but remained alive. _Impossible_. The report described further the strange phrases and noises the man shouted and hissed once inside the airlock. The statement read, 

**Lt. Reginald Barkley**

 **Stardate 2134.8**

 **Time 19:33**

 **Shuttlecraft Exodus on route from Jupiter station detected chronometric particles emanating from the surface of Phobos. Course changed to investigate. Discovered humanoid half buried in the frozen surface. Unable to transport due to unknown interference with transporter lock. Exited shuttlecraft to recover body. Humanoid was covered with armor and helmet, heavily damaged with signs of blood and unknown fluids on the exterior. Face protection on mask shattered, total known time of vacuum exposure, 19 minutes. Ensign Forshaw and I carried the person into airlock C77 on substation 883 and were able to remove the helmet. Male was now alert but agitated, shouting and spitting. Universal translator functional, words were English but carried unknown meaning. Ensign Forshaw was attacked, but the man collapsed immediately after, clutching at his head and losing consciousness. We do not know why. Attacker seemed disoriented, if not, we both would have been killed. We also discovered paper in the armored glove, an incomplete document or perhaps page. I have attached the image to this report.**

 _ **[[He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread. By Their smell can men sometimes know Them near, but of Their semblance can no man know, saving only in the features of those They have begotten on mankind; and of those are there many sorts, differing in likeness from man's truest eidolon to that shape without sight or substance which is Them. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons. The wind gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their consciousness. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not forest or city behold the hand that smites.]]**_

 **Ensign Forshaw and the unknown male have been transferred to Spacedock 01 for medical treatment. Chronometric particles were localized around the entire planet, no known source. All sensor data has been sent to Astro Engineering for further analysis.**

 **End report.**

 **-Lt. Reginald Barkley**

 **Jupiter Station**

Sloan switched off his tablet and returned to his office fourteen floors underground. This is where Starfleet branch commanders did their finest work. Astro Engineering, Starfleet Intelligence, Communication, Science, and so on. The Admirals were generally found on the higher floors, with the highest given to members of the Federation Council. Out among the stars, Captains and Admirals were the highest on the totem pole, whereas at headquarters they were mid-rung. Starfleet represented the military and science branch of the United Federation of Planets. Under the command of the Federation Council, it oversaw all the other lesser military and science bureaus of Federation members. Atop the pyramid is the president, he or she is elected by the council to manage all the United Federation of Planet operations much like the hierarchy of 20th and 21st-century companies. Sloan as Commander of Starfleet Communications is equal to an Admiral, the formal title not assigned to anyone not commanding a sector of starships. And so with his 'lowly' status, he is content working beneath the busy and bustling headquarters of Starfleet Command. His job and personality were a ruse however, a front. For Sloan only appeared and acted as a Commander of Communications, the truth being far more sinister, in-depth, and devious. 

He is part of Section 31, born out of the Starfleet charter of 2133, article 14 section 31. The article allowed for a clandestine organization to operate outside of the framework of Starfleet's governance To do what must be done, to keep Earth safe from threats from without and within. At the inception, the Federation had not existed, but as time passed and the United Federation of Planets was created, Section 31 bypassed the lower echelons of the greater organization and have become known only to the Council and a select few Admirals. Sloan, who reported to only the council in his Section 31 capacity is unsure himself of exactly how many others were in Section 31, but he knew enough not to ask. He maintained subordinates who were loyal, often single men without the desire for family, friends, or confidants. Their motto 'for the greater good,' where the result justified the means, fit perfectly for their ideologies. Many citizens had died to protect their secrets, often unknowingly. Sloan thrived in this environment, and what greater position could he obtain to siphon data from Starfleet than Command of Communications. 

Now, Sloan sat in his chair and pressed a few buttons on his desk,

"Doctor Pulaski, this is Commander Sloan of Starfleet Command, please respond." His monitor flickered to life with Dr. Katherine Pulaski looking back at him. Dressed in a containment suit with the helmet pulled off, her frustrated face could not be hidden. Behind her swarmed a gaggle of nurses and medical assistants overlooking monitors and readouts; evident they just finished with 'the' patient.

"I'm a little busy right now Commander Sloan, I have just finished a level 2 spinal reattachment," she said, wiping a few beads of sweat away. Surgical environment suites were hot, especially under the bright lights of a medical table.

"Do we not have robots that can do that sort of work doctor?" he asked dismissively,

"Robots need to know what they are dealing with, and this is a strange case, now can you get to the point? I do not mean to be rude but is this urgent?" Sloan raised his hand to fend off her verbal jab.

"Yes of course doctor, I have read the report from Lieutenant Barkley, how is your patient doing?"

"Fine" responded Pulaski as she snapped off her gloves, paying little attention to the monitor.

"There are rumors, and I'm getting constant questions from the higher-ups to put out a bulletin. What should I write?" he asked with an exaggerated shoulder shrug.

"I will have my medical report done in about 7 hours, I have a few things to do." Pulaski reached to cut the feed when Sloan jumped in,

"Oh, well perhaps just a headline then? Something I can tell the Admirals." Pulaski rolled her eyes and placed the gloves down on the table. She closed her eyes and scratched her forehead, trying to piece together the events on Phobos.

"Well he's a human male, we think... 190 centimeters tall, 100 kilograms in weight. Covered in tarnished armor…."

"I'm sorry, you think?" _Is he a member of the Dominion?_ Thought Sloan. One of the drawbacks or perhaps benefits of being a Section 31 operator is rampant paranoia.

"His DNA has some strange mutations, seems he was subjected to some sort of… well, I don't know what he is the victim of. At some point might have been human…" Pulaskis' voice trailed off as she glanced over her shoulder at her patient now laying on a gurney just out of view. "He is still human, its tough to say. He overpowered Ensign Forshaw while having a severed spine and a broken left leg. He has healed wounds all over his body. I don't know where he came from... we have sent for a psychiatrist." She turned now to face the commander. "This man should be dead, a hundred times over." 

Sloan scanned Barkley's report, trying to think of more to ask.

"In the report it says he was subjected to space for an extended period, is that accurate?"

"Humans cannot survive for nineteen minutes in space, the armor was damaged, but maybe it did protect him. I don't know." Pulaski again looked over her shoulder and in the background nurses and armed security could be seen hurriedly moving to something off screen.

"Is he awake?" asked Sloan, anticipating she would be disconnecting any moment. Before she could answer a sharp cry of pain and anger came through the speaker.

Dr. Pulaski jumped in surprise, then shouted to someone off screen,

"Make sure he is restrained!" That is when Sloan heard him for the first time, not a man, but an animal,

"I will be there, to fight YOU! In the space between SPACES!"

Pulaski shot out of her chair and the screen went dead. Sloan let his head fall against the back of his chair and closed his eyes. _What the hell is going on? Is it human? Is it responsible for these anomalies? Is it the Dominion?_ He would need to get a '31' agent onto Spacedock 01 which orbited Earth and another into Astro Engineering on Titan to look at those sensor readings from the shuttlecraft. He typed out a few commands into his datapad, and the appropriate personnel were assigned. Another perk of his job position allowed for the assignment and transfer of officers up to the rank of lieutenant-commander at his discretion. It fell into the category of branch communication; officers could be switched from one assignment to another under the guise of communication optimization between departments, ships or bases; it worked well for Sloan's purposes. He could swap out agents and replace them with Section 31 operatives at a whim. Captains or Base Commanders experienced personnel changes regularly, and unless he requested a highly ranked officer to move, no one treated it as abnormal. His datapad beeped and the highly anticipated report from the Enterprise downloaded for review. He took a deep breath and began to read. His eyes focused on any word that may seem relevant, any clue that may be useful. As he read the report, he slowed as Picard detailed the encounter with their visitor, that is when Sloan's mouth began to slowly open, his eyes narrowed on the last sentence.

 **...it is with much regret we were unable to recover the fragments of alien technology that lay scattered within the stars' radius. We will continue our search until informed otherwise.**

 **End report.**

 **-Captain Jean-Luc Picard**

 **U.S.S. Enterprise**

He flicked a switch, _we must find it._

"Sloan to Mcgreggor" he barked into his secure communications line.

"Mcgreggor here," answered his Section 31 direct report. Buried deep within the layers of the bureaucratic pyramid known as Starfleet, Dylan Mcgreggor could be said to be Sloan's right-hand man. Currently assigned to Admiral Ross as a relay analyst, making sure orders given throughout a sector were received by their relevant Captains. He could also monitor orders from other sectors and Admirals, a sort of 'backup' for other analysts. Sloan had placed him there with the rank of Lieutenant three years ago, his real identity utterly unknown to all but a select few. 

"Has the Douglas rendezvoused with the Enterprise yet?" asked Sloan as he pulled up the rotation schedule for the other ships in the surrounding area.

"It is entering the system now."

"Acknowledged, Sloan out." Pressing a few more buttons and looking into his communications monitor a familiar face appeared.

"What can I do for your Luther?" Asked Admiral Ross, half distracted by reports on his desk.

"Admiral, I have been studying the reports from Lieutenant Barkley and Captain Picard. I have also been in communication with the physician working on the unknown visitor from Phobos. I am concerned about widespread panic throughout the Federation. Betazed reported their outermost planet has changed orbit by twenty-eight degrees due to gravitational tidal forces."

"Yes I am aware of that, Ambassador Troi contacted me this morning. As for your concern, I share it. What do you need?"

"The Douglas has arrived in the Elop system to assist the Enterprise in a full system sweep. However, Starfleet Intelligence has made it a priority that they speak to both visitors as soon as possible."

"They just left my office. The Enterprise is headed for Spacedock 01, they should arrive in six days."

"I am also placing a fleet-wide level 3 communication ban on all information regarding our visitors or any potential breakthroughs with data analysis or fragmentation recovery from the chronometric particles or debris field."

The baffled face of Admiral Paris looked up at the screen for the first time,

"Why in gods name would you do that? We need to share information with our partners."

"It is my responsibility to make sure all our fleet and branch-wide communications are secure and appropriate under any circumstance. There is a possibility that Dominion agents are listening."

 _Dominion?!_ Paris had not considered this angle. _Why would they be listening? Did they create the anomalies?_

"You think the Dominion is involved in all this?"

"I do not know, but I feel the precaution is necessary. If they are, we don't want them to know we are aware. If a captain sends information across the quadrant, I don't want everyone listening."

"Make sure you let the rest of the fleet Admirals know about the communication ban, Paris out."

 _The Dominion will not get away with this_ thought Sloan. _They will believe, if it is them, that the Federation is oblivious to their new weapon or transporter technology. Chronometric particles are generally reserved for time travel_ he admitted to himself, _but_ _our understanding of them is just in its infancy_.

"Sloan to Mcgreggor."

"Go."

"As soon as the Enterprise leaves the Elop system, have the Douglas comb the entire star field. That ship slipped through our detection grid, if that is what the Dominion is using we need to know. And if they do find something, make sure it ends up at Bakerfield."

"Acknowledged."

Sloan placed the datapad down on his desk and closed his eyes to think. This communication ban would mask any movement of technology recovered. They could transport it ship to ship and no one could report on its whereabouts. After the ban is lifted, it will show it ended up with Starfleet Intelligence. In reality, it would be carted off to Section 31s' secret Bakerfield facility on the edge of Federation space. Sloan's position as both head of communications and secret operative often tested his organizational ability. His day to day duties needed to appear to fall within the scope of his communication position, with his actual work remaining a mystery to all, as it always had and always would. His thoughts were interrupted by an incoming call, 

"Commander Sloan here,"

"It's Mcgreggor. U.S.S. Burke has reported a chronometric disturbance near the Romulan Neutral Zone. A ship has emerged"

"Another Dominion ship?"

Silence filled the room for several seconds, the distracted Mcgreggor could be heard shuffling around datapads,

"Uhh, no. It's….uhh", his voice trailed off.

"What?" Asked Sloan now starting to pay more attention,

"The Enterprise"

"The Enterprise is near the neutral zone? How the hell is that possible? They were just in the Elop system." Sloan spun his chair around to look at the twenty-foot star chart on his office wall. He knew the Elop system is 400 light years from the neutral zone, and a trip to the Romulan Neutral Zone should take months,

The nearly speechless Mcgreggor managed to sputter out a few more words,

"My God….."

Sloan stopped analyzing the star chart and looked slowly back towards his speaker, totally baffled as to what is happening. Finally, the rest of the sentence came through,

"...not... _**that**_ Enterprise."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Guest

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise-D**

 _You must bring the human soldier back! You cannot fail!_

Then blackness. Silence. Absolute stillness. What little could be remembered was fragmented, noise without substance.

 _Am I awake?_

Eyelids as heavy as drawbridges were being lifted, slowly, painfully. _Am I opening my own eyes? Yes...what am I? A human? Yes. Why am I human? Oh yes, that was it….. Wait, what did I just say? What was I saying?_ Bright blinding light entered the eyes of the guest.

A soft voice with years of practice soothed and calmed the guest,

"Hello...you are alright. It's OK,"

The light slowly faded in intensity, allowing the guest's eyes to narrow and squint under strain. A friendly woman with bright red hair and a blue uniform smiled warmly,

"I am Doctor Crusher, and you are onboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. You are OK, it's safe."

"I…" _My voice! My human voice! What a beautiful voice I have._ "Thank you for rescuing me. I was on a ship I think." Doctor Crusher smiled and put her hand under the newly awakened patient to help her sit. The room was spinning, and she almost fell back but for the hand of the doctor. Her last memory was vanishing now, a ship exploding into fire, _perhaps a star somewhere..._ but she could not be sure.

"What is your name?" asked the doctor as she moved to the other side of the medical table to check on more readings.

The woman sitting on the medical table looked around slowly, then down towards her arms and hands, studying them. A small smile crept across her face,

"Cienna."

"Welcome aboard. I am glad you are alright," came a new rich voice. Cienna turned her head and standing a few feet away were three more humans. Each was wearing a uniform, two men, one woman. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard, this is my first officer William Riker and ship counselor, Deanna Troi," motioning to his left and right. Riker was trying not to stare, trying not to do anything but to stand completely still. For in front of him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, the most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen or dared dream. She was in perfect shape, wearing a white sleeveless dress down to her ankles. On each wrist was a thin gold bracelet with a black ribbon extending behind her arms and up towards the back of her head. The fabric perfectly interwoven with her tightly kept hair which was as silky smooth as the dress she wore. As Riker was taking this all in, he also noticed Cienna's dress had 'wings' that attached the wrists to the back of the dress, the delicate white fabric would certainly blow in the wind, _she looks like a Greek goddess_ he thought. Troi could sense all these feelings and more coming from her friend, she smirked in amusement as her own mind was deep in concentration; busy 'listening' to the emotions from the new visitor.

Cienna returned the smile she was receiving from the three officers, especially one William Riker's.

"Nice to meet you, I should thank you for saving me." Cienna opened her mouth to continue but stopped. _Yes, I was on a ship, a destroyed ship... I think._ "Everything is moving in my head, I am having a hard time focusing, I am...sorry," she said apologetically. Riker and to a lesser extent Picard were blushing, her silky smooth voice creating a mesmerizing effect.

Jean-Luc needed to ensure his guest was safe and unharmed, but knew all too well the dangers of the unknown. Too many occurrences were unexplained and needed answers.

"Take your time, the Doctor has told us you may have a concussion. When you are feeling better, we do have some questions for you if you do not mind."

Even with no telepathic ability, Cienna felt these people were kind, that they meant well.

"Yes of course, I can try to answer any questions you have."

"Wonderful, now if you would excuse us a few minutes."

The four senior officers huddled together on the far side of sickbay as Cienna sat quietly, looking around at the soft features and calming atmosphere of the room. She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic beating of the monitors, _yes...this will do._

"Not human?" asked Riker in disbelief as he looked back over his shoulder towards their guest.

Doctor Crusher passed Will the datapad to explain her reasoning.

"Will, she has no DNA. I have no idea how her body even functions or repairs itself. She looks human, her bio-readouts are human, but when you look deeper, it is like she is an empty slate. She wasn't injured when you beamed her aboard, some unusual neural activity but besides that…"

Picard's ears perked,

"What sort of neural activity?"

"Well, she seems to have memory loss, but there is no damage to the soft tissue, I cannot explain it."

"Counselor?"

Troi being only half-Betazoid was limited to detecting emotion, not the precise thoughts and feelings of those she scanned.

"I sense no hostility, no deception."

"She isn't what I was expecting." Riker's voice trailed off as he scratched his beard and considered _**all**_ possibilities, some inappropriate for print.

Picard let slip a small smile before returning to his train of thought,

"We need to find out what we can. Will, have all senior officers assemble in the conference room."

 **Conference Room**

Seated around the conference table was Captain Picard, Commander Riker, Doctor Crusher, Deanna Troi, Lieutenant Commander Data, and Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge. They had been in discussion for over an hour when the door hissed open. As Cienna entered the three men seated at the table put on their best poker faces, conscious of what they were saying and where they were looking. Serious issues needed to be addressed, and this was no time for games. Even still, she seemed to float through the doorway flanked by Worf and two security men who stood against the far wall. After introductions had been completed, the business of the time distortions and what role if any this new passenger played were top of the list.

Picard opened,

"Cienna, can you tell us where you are from?"

Instead of answering, the mysterious guest found herself looking out the window at the half-star she had narrowly escaped. Untold energies were radiating out, a tapestry of light and energized molecules were pouring into the local system. Heavy elements would spread throughout the galaxy for the next hundred million years to bring new life and opportunity for races not yet born. Cienna found herself daydreaming, the radiant colors shining into her soft eyes, _what almost killed me will bring life to some that I will never know..._ She had been there, moments from death and she was keenly aware of how lucky she was.

"I was created by my masters, tasked with a duty, then destroyed and reborn then re-tasked again. I was asked to do terrible things."

"Destroyed?" asked Data, seemingly confused at the context of such an expression by a biological being.

Picard looked at Deanna who shook her head inconspicuously; Cienna was telling the truth.

"Can you elaborate? You were created?"

"I..." her eyes were now much more alert, realizing that she may not be able to answer all their questions. The truth was in her mind, but she could not access it, it was pushed aside, buried and blocked. "... I just know what they did to me, I am not sure where I came from."

Riker cut in,

"Whose ship were you on?"

"My masters,"

"And who is that? Who is your master?"

The stark realization that even primary memories were shrouded or missing was starting to weigh on Cienna.

"I am trying to remember." Her eyes were shut now with her hands clasped together in front of her. Troi could feel the frustration, anger, and fear. "They were not like you. They were different, maybe they were machines?" _Were they machines? How can I not know this? I can't remember!_

"Cienna" began Troi, "I know it's hard, but it is important you try and remember. It may take time, but I believe the answers are available to you."

"They were monsters, inside machines" _Yes, yes they were monsters. Or were they just machines?_ "...at least I think."

Data had been studying the report from the Federation sensor grid, it had successfully passed a level 3 diagnostic, and so he began his line of questioning.

"Cienna. Do you know where they were from? From which part of the quadrant? Or galaxy?"

The last part caused the assembled officers to look over with confusion as it would take the Enterprise seventy years to cross the Milky Way. Galaxy crossing was impossible in a reasonable amount of time by Starfleet and was often overlooked in discussion. Data noticed the group's surprise and repositioned himself to explain. "Captain, neither sensor grid in this sector detected any vessels beyond those which were authorized to be here. In addition, the composition of the debris is of unknown design and material. This leads me to believe the ship's origin is not local, and perhaps beyond our explored territory."

Picard nodded in agreement,

"Cienna, did your ship have cloaking technology? Do you have any idea how far you have traveled?" Cienna said nothing, only shaking her head slowly in the negative. She was not sure, and as each question was asked, it became more painful for her to face the fact she may never remember. Years of diplomacy enabled Picard to read her body language and facial expression, he sat back and put his hands in his lap. He took a moment and smiled warmly, "I suppose we have jumped the gun on these questions, forgive us. What do you remember?"

 _No….no!_ Memory fragments now swept through Cienna's mind, she could remember vague images, horrifying thoughts resurfacing in blistering flashes. "I was liquefied and reborn...and reborn again and again..." No one said anything for several seconds; Troi's face grimaced as she felt emotions swirling around in Cienna's head. "The last thing I remember, I was in my bio-tube, and then the far wall exploded. The surrounding ship disintegrated..." her voice trailed off.

"Are you aware of any temporal technology that-" Data was interrupted by the Counselor,

"Captain, I recommend we take a recess and perhaps start again in the morning," advised Troi.

"Agreed. Mr. Worf, see to it that Cienna finds her way to her quarters." As Cienna rose from her seat and headed towards the door, she could hear the continued discussion,

"...we need to find these masters and find out-" Riker was cut off by Cienna who spun around on her heels with a desperate look etched into her face,

"No, please no. They are awful. They bring pain and suffering and death," Troi stood up and walked over to Cienna and placed her hand on her shoulder.

"It will be OK. We will keep you safe, but we do need to discover what happened." Troi smiled and led her out of the room. As they walked Cienna could hear their awful shrieking voices deep in her memory.

 _You cannot fail! You will N-O-T fail!_


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Welcome To The Party

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise**

Captain Kirk set his empty glass down on the table and motioned for a refill.

"How the hell did this happen Bones?"

Doctor McCoy pulled the empty glass closer and poured in more scotch. The pair sat in Kirk's quarters, an hour turning into two. Dinner piping hot, came courtesy of the yeoman who prepared meals for the captain and his senior staff. Now they rested comfortably in chairs with full bellies and busy minds.

"I don't know Jim, I'm only a doctor," responded McCoy as he took another sip. It had been over sixty days since the Enterprise had been pulled into the future. Now, escorted by the U.S.S. Burke, the Enterprise headed towards Earth at warp six. The journey from the Romulan neutral zone to Earth would take ninety days, and with thirty left, it gave plenty of time for reflection and inspection of what had happened.

"Bones. What could it have been? Lazarus? Trapped for all time. Maybe it hadn't worked..." Kirk's conflicting thoughts trailed off as he ran his index finger along the rim of his glass. The two had been going over scenarios all month, and as each shot of whiskey burned their throats, their theories became more farfetched and outrageous.

"Jim. Lazarus sealed the rift between two universes years ago, why now?"

Shaking his head, the captain could not fathom how this event occurred, to him there was no reason for it.

"I don't know Bones. It doesn't make a damn bit of sense. Janice Lester and Doctor Coleman had just beamed down to penal colony alpha-seven when the ship was struck. Then we all woke up...here...in this...time. We even moved a few hundred parsecs."

Bones rested his head against the bulkhead, his focus towards the ceiling.

"Well, we sure ain't imagining it. Spock and his computer brain hasn't come up with a reason either."

"Maybe the Guardian of Forever?"

More of a rhetorical question at this point, many in a long list of unanswerable questions. Three years ago, the Enterprise had been in contact with the sentient gate. And despite the crew's vast experience and dealings with super-powerful beings, accepting the gate wielded so much power seemed difficult to grasp.

"Jim," McCoy paused as he searched for the words, the scotch slowing him down just a bit. "No matter the time period, the matter where we are. We have an obligation-"

"To whom? Ourselves? Starfleet?"

"To humanity,"

Kirk said nothing while absorbing his friend's words. His thoughts were of his crew and their families. Mothers, fathers, children, friends. _All dead,_ _if any were alive now they would be over one hundred years old._

"I need to get these people back Bones; I need to return us to the past."

"And what if you can't? What if we can't go back Jim? Then what? Will we all just sit around and sulk?" said McCoy distastefully.

"That's enough doctor!" shouted Kirk as he stood up and walked towards the door before pausing to face his friend, "My duty is to this ship, this crew, this…"

"I know Jim... just don't be so damn miserable about it."

McCoy placed his feet up on another chair and poured himself a glass. Kirk grinned and took off down the corridor towards the bridge. Ever since arriving in this timeline, Starfleet had been busy analyzing their sensor data and readings. Hundreds of requests for information were being sent daily, crew questionnaires, engineering details, even questions about dreams or hallucinations. Under regular circumstances information regarding different timelines would not be shared in the assumption it would pollute the time stream. However, these were not ordinary times or normal circumstances. The Enterprise, a ship not designed for time travel had been mysteriously moved a hundred years into the future, a Betazoid planet thrown off its orbit, half-novas, and strange visitors. Starfleet Intelligence was desperate to piece together these events to determine their cause and any possible link.

All possible explanations were being explored, the Dominion, Romulans, Borg, even the Q was brought up in the discussion. Unbeknownst to Starfleet Intelligence was Section 31s' own research and theories. While often in line with Starfleet, the secret organization held access to confidential data and technology not available to the broader organization. This left Kirk and other captains in the dark on possible developments. With the level-three communication ban set by Commander Sloan, no information regarding temporal anomalies or recovered ships was to be shared. All relevant data was being stored, analyzed, and filtered at headquarters.

It had been decided by Starfleet that whomever the perpetrator of these events was, they should be left in the dark on what the Federation could or could not decipher. And so with this 'blackout,' the Enterprise crew busily brought themselves up-to-date on the last century of new history and the current political and military situation throughout the Alpha Quadrant. _This ship needs an upgrade_ mused Kirk as the turbolift door opened and the familiar beeping of the bridge filled his ears.

"Report Mr. Spock"

"Ship is operating at peak efficiency captain."

"Good," replied Kirk as he rested against the science console, "did you get to the bottom of those technical manuals?"

"Engineer Scott and I have completed the final review of technical data and journals provided by Starfleet for this era,"

"And?" said Kirk emphatically as he knew there was much more,

"As you know Captain, there has been a tremendous increase in computer processing power over the last century."

"Can we upgrade our systems?"

"Negative. Modern ships use a main computer core for all ship functions, whereas our ship uses many. We can however upgrade certain aspects of our dilithium chamber, but not until we reach Spacedock. I would like to remind you from our last briefing that warp core power-output has plateaued. There has been extensive testing of subspace weapons but all have been failures, further research has been banned by various treaties within the Alpha Quadrant. Our defensive and offensive systems are still relevant, the frequency-modulation of modern ships brings other uses but not enhanced destructive power."

"Can we get this ship to warp 9.97?"

"Starfleet has made significant progress with warp bubble theory and engine efficiency; we will require a major retrofit, as stated in my original briefing forty-six days ago, on Bones'-"

Kirk raised his hand with a smile,

"Acknowledged, good work Spock" Kirk patted his first officer on the shoulder. _Scotty is going to have a fit._

"Captain, I am getting a signal from Starfleet command," reported Uhura from communications,

"On viewer Lieutenant" The screen flickered and filled with a familiar face, Admiral Ross, commander of all ships near the Romulan Neutral Zone as well as Deep Space 9. Over the last sixty days they were in constant contact, the calls being routine.

"Captain Kirk," smiled Ross. From what could be seen through the viewer, The Admiral was seated in a large room with various tactical and strategic screens with nameless ensigns and lieutenants scurrying about.

"What can I do for you Admiral?"

"Captain, I am contacting all ships under my command to ask you to review the information we just sent out."

"We will study it Admiral, but maybe you could save me the read?" asked Kirk with a smile.

Ross chuckled, he liked Kirk. He knew the legend well, and over the last two months had grown to like him even more.

"To summarize, we are detecting unknown ships appearing all over Federation space. The Klingons are telling us the same."

"What are they? Where are they from?"

"That is why I'm making a personal call, we want to capture one. Every time we get within a million kilometers they self-destruct. The Yorktown is trying to piece one back together now, but the destruction is pretty thorough. We are trying to coordinate with the Klingons to see what tactics they have been using..."

Ross's eye caught something off camera, and the muffled voice of a junior officer could be heard. The Admiral nodded his head and then turned back to Kirk,

"If you manage to catch one, contact Commander Sloan at Starfleet headquarters. He is in command of fleet-wide communication and will take over from there."

"We will do our best, see you in about thirty days," Ross nodded and the signal cut.

Kirk's stomach was churning slowly, _Why the Klingons... I hate Klingons_. In his timeline, the Klingons were much different from the ones of this era. Over the past one hundred years, there had been significant changes in their culture, governance, and beliefs. For the longest of times they had been a race of conquerors, with a totalitarian style of governance; resembling the nation-state of the Soviet Union of the mid to late 20th century. That governance style, social hierarchy, and culture were now completely gone; replaced by a complicated form of honor and family status. From the information available to Kirk, he was unsure if he liked them more or less, but he wasn't in a hurry to find out. _And their foreheads...why the ridges all of a sudden...what have they done to themselves..._ Those thoughts flashed away as he focused on the task at hand,

"Spock set sensors to maximum, we have a job to do."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Spacedock 01**

Doctor Pelco tapped her fingernails along the top of her datapad. She sat behind the brig force-field, intently watching her patient. A Betazoid psychiatrist, Pelco earned her reputation as the best 'head doctor' in all the Federation. With her telepathic ability, she read the thoughts of patients, allowing for a greater understanding of their problems and needs. For the last sixty days she had been helping the unknown soldier found on Phobos. She had given him the name 'John' in a vain attempt to help his memory and suffering. The hope was, that by giving him a name and treating him as a regular person suffering from memory loss and PTSD, that he may warm up to her and come around.

Pelco spent tens of hours in the brig, trying to discern how the mystery guest ended up on Phobos, and who he was. Unable to recall his real name, along with interests, hobbies, and personality;Pelco realized _, only fear and delusions remain_. Describing to the best of his ability the circumstances surrounding his arrival on Phobos, many questioned whether he understood the ramifications of what he suggested. With the Doctor's telepathic strength, she knew he genuinely believed his descriptions, his 'lies' indifferent from truth. After each session, Pelco briefed Starfleet Intelligence which provided her questions they wanted asked. Initially, she resisted this strategy, but after seeing the footage of the half-nova star in the Elop system, as well as the outlying Betazed planet that had changed orbit, she relented.

Many other visitors came and went, including some crew members of the Enterprise-D who had returned to Earth five weeks ago. Captain Picard compared the soldier's story to Cienna's in the hope of finding corroborative evidence. At this point, Starfleet believed the two visitors had different backgrounds, but nothing could be certain, as nothing could be proven, or more accurately, disproven.

To the untrained observer, 'John' existed in a near comatose state. His black eyes rarely moving, lifeless and lacking sparkle and charm. Each pupil appeared so large that little white could be seen, just deadening blackness casting itself out from his soul. Within the brig, he slept, ate, and bathed in full view of the security personnel stationed in the holding center, safely behind their desks facing the cell. No chances were being taken after the attack on Ensign Forshaw.

Pelco smiled warmly,

"So John, how are you doing today?"

"Better."

He sat on his bed, his head resting against the cold steel. His armor had been stripped off and sent to an unknown location for study. Plastic surgery successfully replaced both his missing ears, and deep tissue lacerations covered his entire body. Extensive reconstructive surgery had been performed to fix severe wounds. Broken bones, a fractured spinal column, small breaks and sprains as well as the closure of the gaping ear wounds were all addressed. His new set of ears were working perfectly, but debate as to how he had lost them in the first place was raging. Some suggested self-mutilation based on flesh found beneath his fingernails, while others insisted a wild animal. No one knew for sure, and 'John' didn't remember.

Pelco cringed every time she thought of the pain he must have endured, and suffering that he must have gone through.

"That is good, you know I think you have come a long way. As you know, we do monitor your sleep, and you have not had any nightmares for eighteen days, a vast improvement," she said warmly. As she spoke, her mind prodded his, trying to read the thoughts that came from the deep black well of fear that he had suppressed.

Again, 'John' did not move or react, his slow answers indicative of his mental exhaustion.

"I told you before, they have left me alone,"

"Yes you've said that... I just wanted you to know; this is our last session together. Is there anything you wanted to tell me? Anything about your past you wanted to change? You have told me some interesting stories,"

John's eyes suddenly hardened,

"For the last time, they are not stories... they are real," he said between his clenched teeth.

"Yes," she said glancing down at her datapad "Do you still believe then that you were a Marine fighting on Mars? Fighting aliens?"

"Aliens...no." The contempt in his voice as thick as oil; Unsure if the doctor purposely misrepresented his statements, but it did not matter. He felt anger swelling, deep down where it festered and prodded.

"Oh, sorry, you said they were from Hell?"

"No!"

'John' shot out of his bed and was now screaming through the force-field, only inches from Pelco's face. She jumped out of her seat and scampered a few feet back. Instinctively, both security personnel rushed closer, a needless act given the force-field. "I said what we were told! All of us! The scientists, the corps... we were told these things were from somewhere else. Some researchers said they were from Hell, not me!" One of the security guards noted the energy field readout, for a moment he swore the power range had fluctuated. He continued to eye it suspiciously for the remainder of the Doctor's stay.

"I see."

Pelco had never seen her patient like this, it seemed to her that a portion of his mental block had come down. Scanning his mind for deceit, she found none; he still believed every word. She pushed further into his consciousness but as she drove deeper so too came resistance. This refusal of mental access had not surfaced before, but she pushed inward in the hopes of untangling the cobwebs and crisscrossed memories of her confused patient. Soon, Pelco felt lost in his thoughts, deep down into the abyss where she could not travel. She pulled her mind back but not before feeling a terrible dread, like a cave scuba diver who lost their sense of direction. Up, down, left, right, all were the same, a clawing panic and desperate bid to find 'air' enveloped her mind. Finally, she was out, breathing slowly as 'John' continued,

"The ones that died said the gates of Hell had been opened. I saw things, I told you I saw things that I can't describe. It was that book, it was all from that book."

"John," she began, "we have been over this before. There is no Marine Corp unit on Mars, we do not have such a unit. Phobos has no facilities that match your description. This portal-"

'John' did not wait for her to finish, irritability burst out, he grew tired of the same questions.

"The gate opened from the book I found, I don't know where it came from! The people on the base said they needed power from another dimension to solve the world's energy problems. That's what I think happened, yes...yes that's what happened. It's hard to think straight you know!" 'John' held his temples and screamed in frustration and rage.

"Please John, remain calm. You said before you tried to take the book?"

"I read it, most of it…the strange language... I wanted to grab the entire book, but something blew, and I only got a page. Then I woke up on the surface of Phobos."

This story had been told before, but in fragments. Pelco had been able to coax the information out slowly, with specific questions designed to trigger an emotional response. If looked at objectively, it may have been possible to describe most of the circumstance as dimensional experimentation. _But the book...why is his mind creating a book to base his stories…_

"This book, it allowed for the opening of the portal?" asked Pelco with a hint of disbelief.

"I was told the only way to talk to them is through the words in the book. It allows for portals as well…"

"John, what I don't understand is why you fought the things from the book?"

'John's' eyes blinked and an ounce of clarity appeared across his face. Memories came and went, giving a little more context to his stories. 

"No. No it wasn't them that I was fighting. It…" the marine was no longer looking at Pelco but somewhere else, into his past, the rest of the sentence sounded if it were spoken from a daze. "...it was just their images...only the features they have begotten on mankind…" 'John's' face was now expressionless, continuing as if reciting from a script. "...from man's truest eidolon to that shape without sight or substance which is _**Them**_ …"

"Is that from the book John?"

The voice of Doctor Pelco seemed to wrestle 'John' from wherever his mind traveled, he regained his focus and took a seat.

"No, the book was in another language, I grabbed the only translated part." The Doctor was hesitant to re-enter his mind; she assumed 'John's' PTSD affected her ability to read it properly. She knew that a soldier's mind could believe anything once irreversible trauma was sustained. At this point, she felt the case would continue to be a mystery, events real and unreal would need to be solved using another method.

"I was going to end our official treatment today, but you appear talkative. I will return a few more times, is that okay?"

"I can hear them, whispering to me."

Pelco sighed quietly. _This poor soul..._ She was sure he was insane, but not entirely convinced his story or at least part of it was unreal. _He had to have been brought to Phobos, undetected by Starfleet in some manner of fashion,_ and so the search for the truth would continue. As she gathered her items to leave, 'John' was starting to tug at his ears. She motioned for the security guards,

"Do not let him harm himself."

Within the brig, 'John's' eyes were darting from side to side, seemingly reacting to what he believed he saw and heard.

 _ **Kill them! Teach them new ways to die! New ways to suffer! They cannot harm you! What doesn't truly live, cannot truly die! We walk the forest and stalk the city, they cannot behold us as we smite. No one but you can hear us, no one but you can call us, no one but you can know us.**_

Johns' face was spasming violently, and for one brief and utterly impossible second, Doctor Pelco thought she saw the bones in his face oozing and shifting beneath the skin. Her mouth gaped and her eyes squinted for a closer look, but it was over; 'John' lay unconscious. Slumped in an upright position against the far wall, sweat could be seen pooling under his arms and urine soaked his hospital pants. Pelco stood still in complete shock, she had never experienced anything like this.

Later the security footage of the cell corroborated both guards reports, that nothing unusual had occurred upon the patient's face. _I must have imagined it_ thought Pelco from her private office as she looked down at the patient file.

 **[[...John's mind has endured more than any patient I have ever helped, creating false personalities which are manifesting as voices in his head. This in turn creates more dread and more exhaustion. A vicious cycle... ]]**

She had asked him several times for his name when they had first met, only to receive a descriptive term instead. Up until this point the name of his file was "John Doe," but it no longer seemed fitting. She would change it to the word he murmured in his sleep, and half-waking dreams.

 **-DOOM-**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sandbox

 **Outside Known Universe - Q Continuum**

Another gale of wind pummeled the wooden walls and boarded up windows of the dilapidated tavern. It's filthy rotten walls and drooping ceiling a reminder of the depressing times now facing the Q Continuum. None of this or any of the following descriptions are 'real' in the sense that they are material. Not real in a sense that you or I could go there to experience it, but only a mere semblance of what the super-beings experience, and how you can relate to their strife and current misery.

Inside the shabby walls, small bits of earth and sand covered the floor and plank cracks, making upkeep lengthy and tedious. Oil Lamps burned sluggishly, barely enough to keep the shadows at bay as the endless night wore on.

"One hell of a night," said the barkeep. He had been keeping a keen eye on the flimsy wooden door all evening. The relentless howling wind buckled the door, and the panels strained and groaned along the hinges.

"Yep," said a man seated down the bar with a white suit and mustache to match. "Never seen anything like it."

"Me neither," said another Q, and another and so on and so forth until every man and woman in the tavern had all acknowledged they had not seen such an occurance.

"This is what it must be like for mortals, like those humans of yours," said the barkeep towards Common-Q who sat at the far end of the tavern overlooking two chessboards which were joined.

Common-Q for years harassed Picard, creating the first test for humanity which the crew barely passed. It was he who set up the wormhole between the Milky Way and Imperial Galaxies. This is mentioned for convenience sake; as the description of events and telepathic communication between super-beings is difficult to decipher and is susceptible to error.

Ignoring the sly remark, Common-Q refocused on his chessboard. Gusts of wind occasionally knocked pieces onto the floor,

"This is intolerable…" he whined, "keep your own pieces over there! Away from mine! I do not want a mix-up," shouted Common-Q to a woman 20 paces away who collected her own pieces scattered along the floorboards. The storm had descended upon the town without warning, making travel impossible. Any venture beyond the tavern brought great risk to the adventurer; the existence beyond the Continuum shifted and changed without reason or purpose.

Common-Q blew some errand dust off his board and then hesitated. _Maybe that dust was there the entire time?_ He reached down and picked up a few specks and put them back where they had been a moment before; not entirely sure if those were the exact ones he had just blown off. Under normal conditions, it would be easy to tell. A mere glance back through time would verify those dust mites were there the entire time, or a look ahead to check if the end result was what he knew it should be. Now though, for the first time he could not. He could monitor the 'now,' but not forward or backward.

"When is Q supposed to be back?" asked the white-suited man at the bar. No one answered. No one knew. The door remained closed for now, the brave Q who had ventured out had not been seen again.

"We just need to maintain as always," said one,

"As we always have," said another

"It is only a disruption" voiced the barkeep.

This discourse continued on and on, each glancing around for answers while monitoring their own chess boards. Of all the hundreds of billions of galaxies, in all the dimensions, in all the places, crooks and crannies of the cosmos, the Q's were essentially stuck in one corner. The maelstrom outside allowed no passage, no viewable spectrum beyond their small game boards. The uncountable zillions of molecules, beings, and planets that stretched from one corner of known existence to another were not trackable all at once. The Q were not omnipresent, they needed to focus, much like a man would focus on an ant if worth his study. And now, with the temporal-time winds howling uncontrollably and with attention pulled in many directions, some ants were roaming free. Before the storm, the Q could travel, move and peer between dimensions at leisure, looking forward, backward and sideways through time. Now, they could not, only able to cross between the Continuum and the reality of the Milky Way Universe, and by extension the Imperial Universe through the Q wormhole. This was due to the telepathic anchor they had set up between the Continuum and Milky Way Universe to conduct the test of humanity. No 'thought' could pass through the temporal maelstrom, and so they waited.

"We must maintain The Continuum Temporal Foundation," said one,

"As it has always been maintained," replied another.

A smug thin man sat closest the piano near the now boarded up window. His banker's mustache and top hat representing a smugness inherent in all Qs. He sat with his feet on a chair and twisted a slow burning cigar in his mouth. Snapping his pocket watch closed he looked up at the secured door.

"You know, it has not always been the case where we could see infinity," he said taking the cigar out of his mouth and dabbing the burnt end into an ashtray. "You are all forgetting who we are, and where we came from. If I so much as detect a hint of fear in any of you, you shall be banished." He blew gently on the end of his cigar, the delicate embers floated upwards and disappearing out of view.

"Should we fear the Ultimate Gate?" asked the youngest Q, a mere 4 billion years old. The room suddenly became quiet and still, even the piano player who had been lumbering on the keys for hours rested a moment. Young-Q's head slowly turned on a swivel, everyone staring as if seeing a ghost. "Was...was I not supposed to ask? "

"Have you ever seen it?" asked the top hat Q, squashing the head of his cigar into the table.

"No."

"Can you go to it? Can your mind reach it?"

Again, Young-Q answered in the negative,

"No…"

"That is because it is unreal." top hat Q raised his hand and opened his fist like a magician releasing a dove. Energy sparkled and crackled through the air, with small bubbles starting to form above their heads. "Our minds can go anywhere, to any dimension, to any place or time. Tell me young one... where is the gate? What is the gate?" The honeycomb continued to expand outward, first thousands and then millions of small bubbles were foaming and frothing. "These are the universes and dimensions you can go, your mind can take you to all of them, to all infinity. You know this already, we've seen them all. So have you. Now then. Let your question rest."

Common-Q was listening on the opposite side of the room, he was keenly observing his game pieces, as well as dust and sand particles spread across his board. Confident that all the dust lay in the correct spots, he smiled softly as he moved another piece. _Nothing will interfere with his test._ Now though, his desire for conversation drew him away from the game board and towards rare socialization within the tavern. What relative amount of time passed as he looked away from the Milky Way or Imperial Universe is not known; an impossibility to even estimate.

"It was a weakness of our once mortal selves, in the dreary days when we were not omnipotent we sometimes dreamt of things unreal. Sad and pathetic I know," said Common-Q as he strode through the universal bubbles. He reached out and grabbed a few, then gently released them back into the air. "The truth is, we know all there is to know about the universe, we can go everywhere and see anything." Young-Q nodded his head in agreement. "You were not alive in the oldest of days, when we were fearful, cowering in one small corner of the cosmos. Look how far we have come." Common-Q stopped at the edge of the table where Young-Q was seated and put his hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

"And do you remember those days?" asked top hat Q.

Common-Q smiled and started back towards his chessboards,

"I remember everything. And everyone."

The tavern remained quiet, the only noise but a match striking the table as another cigar was lit. Outside the wind continued to howl, rattling the walls and boarded windows. Oil lamps flickered, and the flimsy ceiling chandelier rocked from side to side. There was nothing to do but sit and wait.

And so they sat.

And so they waited.

 **Imperial Galaxy - Coruscant**

Grand Admiral Thrawn bowed as he wrapped up his presentation,

"That concludes our campaign strategy, your Highness,"

His smooth as silk voice and cool as a cucumber demeanor might have confused some for an advanced android. His blue skin contrasted perfectly with his impossibly white Imperial uniform decorated with two dozen medals for various combat campaigns. His impeccably kept boots held their polish day and night, the leather firm and uncracked.

As the Grand Admiral picked up his datapad his mouth betrayed no smile. However, if one were to pay close attention to the corner of his red eyes, you might have seen an inkling of one. This being his third and final presentation over the last eighty days, he felt confident of its adoption. All areas of consideration had been addressed. Political, religious, cultural, biological, technological, industrial, and militaristic variables all carefully screened. Even art, which most would say held no value in a galactic campaign, was cataloged and considered.

"Leave us" oozed the Emperor. Thrawn bowed respectfully, turned heel and marched out of the room followed closely by Admiral Piett. As the large metal doors closed, they heard the distinct rumblings of Vader,

"It seems-" and then the doors clanged shut.

Thrawn walked briskly towards the lift, believing the plan to be the best it could be under the circumstances. The Emperor had imposed a deadline, today being the final day of his team's deliberations and strategy crafting. Thrawn preferred an invasion after four or five years of careful study. Instead, no more than three months could be spared. Initially, the Grand Admiral suggested the rebels needed to be dealt with first, but it became evident the Emperor had other plans.

Control of the Milky Way with a particular emphasis on a planet called Earth.

Piett who had said nothing during their walk to the lift finally commented,

"I think that went well Grand Admiral,"

Thrawn stood motionless with his hands clasped behind his back, even subordinates working under him for years found it difficult to read his body language.

"And why do you say that?"

"Well, for one, they asked few questions."

"Is that a good thing in your opinion?" More interested in his subordinates thought process rather than his final answer, he mused at Piett's simpleness. Thrawn felt the Admiral adequate, loyal, and competent enough for his purposes. _Good to keep around as a tool..._

Piett continued with his shallow analysis of the meeting,

"Perhaps they had not seen any flaws in it, the research behind this plan is exhaustive."

"We know the known knowns, and we know the known unknowns." Piett awkwardly nodded his head through the mental gymnastics as his superior continued, "...but we do not know the unknown unknowns, that is what will take time. Time we do not have."

"Unknown unknowns….right sir." Pietts' eyes flickered as he tried to process the meaning.

To the Galactic Empire, the new galaxy presented many obstacles but offered just as many opportunities. Imperial engineers worked round the clock on modifying shields, sensors, communication equipment, and other systems to optimize the fleet against possible threats. These calibrations were carefully and deliberately completed with Thrawn's approval and guidance. _You can defeat an enemy before the battle even begins_.

It did not take long for the call to come in. Within an hour a holonet signal was received. Thrawn nodded to his communications officer and a towering black figure shimmered to life in front of him.

"Lord Vader, how can I be of service?"

"You may begin the operation as planned."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Pieces on the Board

I **mperial Galaxy - Outer Rim - Dagobah**

Ten thousand-million planets covered the Imperial cosmos; many being uninhabitable lifeless rocks circling distant stars which were cataloged and measured but nothing more. So it was no surprise that Dagobah remained a mystery to the vast majority of the population. Teeming with over-nourished vegetation, animal life, molds, and fungus, it birthed many oddities of creature both large and small. But none of these attributes made it unique, only it's intelligent permanent resident, known to some as the most celebrated Jedi Master the galaxy had ever seen, made the planet truly remarkable.

On the surface, a usually dry shoreline of an unimportant bog flooded with water.

Torrential rain pooled and swashed along the ground, overflowing into the surrounding area and collecting near the foot of a large tree. A small dwelling had been hollowed out and erected in the trees immense shadow, its exposed roots forming the basis for the walls and roof. Through the small glassless windows, the last remnants of firelight flickered beneath a suspended pot of stew. And there, in the firelight along a narrow passage sat Luke Skywalker, the last hope of the Rebellion.

His dirty drabs of clothing matched his equally unkempt hair and facial stubble. Many months had passed since the evacuation of the Hoth base. Sent to Dagobah by his old mentor Obi-Wan, he had trained under his new master. Now Yoda's shaky claw reached for the corner of the well-worn blanket.

"Yes..strong are you," strained Yoda while struggling to turn himself over to face his apprentice. Despite Luke having only trained for a few months, his progress surprised even the ancient Jedi Master. Luke smiled as he pulled the blanket higher towards his master's chin; the small fire unable to warm the room.

"Master Yoda…" so many questions raced through the young man's mind. In his short stay on Dagobah, secrets of the Force unveiled themselves, an untold power lay waiting to grasp. With no distractions and his friends safe, he had concentrated, trained, and understood. Strange images still swirled in his head, cloud cities, battles above a forest moon, futures that may or may not have existed. _One possible future..._ Each day the visions became more fragmented, disjointed and harder to discern.

"Nothing to say…" coughed Yoda, closing his eyes and seeing his own images flash before him. For all Force users, the future seemed mostly unreadable due to unknown interference, but when the mind was calm as it was now, flashes of the true future could be seen. "Luke... Luke….your training is not over…you will have to learn all that there is to learn."

A look of surprise flashed across Luke's face,

"I am not a Jedi?"

"A Jedi?!" Yoda snickered before a wave of coughing overtook him. "A Jedi? ...no … no. Vader...you must confront Vader." Luke hung his head low and closed his eyes. He had experienced vivid dreams of a climactic battle aboard a Deathstar, and a lingering question remained. _Is it my destiny?_ He shook his head in disbelief when he felt a brittle claw raise his chin; he looked up into his master's eyes. Yoda's soft smile disarmed him, and for the next few seconds, each remained calm and quiet. For with each passing moment Yoda became closer to the Force. For only the strongest could see the truth at the end of their long journey. No more distortions, no more fragmented visions. He could see.

The future.

The past.

Old friends long gone.

"Remember...a Jedi's strength flows from the Force, luminous being are we... not this crude matter," he shook Luke's chin with emphasis. Several minutes passed in silence before Luke asked his last question,

"Will I face him?" Yoda lay still, and at first Luke thought the firelight played tricks with his eyes. In reality, his master's form shifted into another phase of existence, like previous masters before him. It was the way of things, the way of the Force. The moment seemed to last forever, but in a final second of semblance, a message.

"When it is your turn to pass... a Jedi you will be."

Then he was gone.

Luke sat back against the cold wall and stared out into the sheets of rain. _I am the last one._ Instantly he felt intolerably lonely, first Obi-Wan, and now Yoda,

"I am all alone…"

"Not exactly,"

Luke's neck snapped sideways,

"Obi-wan…"

Out in the pouring rain stood his old friend, his force ghost shimmering in the storm. Struggling to his feet, Luke walked out into knee deep water to greet him. The torrential downpour in conjunction with blistering wind limited visibility to a few feet, and even in a foot of water, waves churned and splashed along the surface. "Ben... I can't do it" he pleaded. Upon his arrival on this overgrown planet, he was cocky, willing, and brash. But the failure in the cave now haunted him. Luke had faced his deepest fears, the ramifications boring deep into his core. Yoda had told him that he did not need his weapons, that only his mind was required. Fear lay in wait, deep inside him; Vader's broken helmet had revealed himself, that within him lay the potential for evil.

 _Maybe there is a bit of evil in all of us..._

"Luke, you have to be strong. There are challenging times ahead, the future is unknown," said Kenobi.

Luke wiped his eyes and looked back at the small hut through the downpour.

"I wanted to know, is it my destiny to face Vader?" Luke turned back, but Obi-wan had vanished.

Now the desolation of his situation became apparent; _there is nothing left for me here..._ Luke gathered his gear, clothing, supplies, and stowed them into the belly of his X-wing. R2D2 chirped and whistled as the astromech droid secured itself into the navigator position. On the screen, Luke read the following,

 _ **-Priority message**_

 _ **-Increased Imperial activity in Caleise System**_

 _ **-Kuat Drive Yards producing probe droids**_

 _ **-Increased fleet rotations**_

 _ **-Contacts within Imperial Navy are showing longer deployment times**_

 _ **-Bounty-Hunters are being recruited**_

 _ **-Keep Safe**_

Luke switched off the encoder and sat in silence. He knew he would never return, never again to train under a master. And as he sat, one question continued to haunt him, _what is my destiny... what can I control?_ He did not know. No answer could be given. Then his train-of-thought stopped as his eye caught a random raindrop as it ran down the X-Wing canopy. It started off small and as it fell towards the bottom of the windshield, colliding with other water droplets which joined the whole. Luke followed it carefully, watching it grow larger and larger as it collected more droplets into itself, down and down until the droplet came within a few inches of the lock-seal. It then switched directions and headed diagonally across the canopy towards the other end.

The wind had shifted, and so too had the droplet.

Luke shook his head and took one last somber look outside, his master's hut hidden in the distance.

"So long," he whispered as his X-wing climbed into the sky, disappearing from sight.

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise**

Not a sound came from the dark and quiet bridge of the Enterprise, no light or instrument panel flashed or blinked. Deep within a gaseous nebula and running in 'silent' operation, the crew readied themselves as the final calculations were completed. It had been hypothesized after dozens of failed attempts that the random appearances of these unknown ships cropping up across Federation space were not random at all. Instead, Spock believed they followed a precisely calculated distribution path within Federation space. Multiple attempts to capture one of these ships had failed due to insufficient data, but as time wore on, Spock felt confident he had discovered a pattern. Forty-eight failed captures in the last three weeks from many ships across Federation space allowed for an ever decreasing margin of error.

"Spock?" whispered Kirk. "Spock… Spock?" the Vulcan raised his finger while finishing the last calculations in his head,

"Now,"

Kirk did not need to hear another word. He jammed his thumb into the communication button, connecting the bridge to the phaser control room,

"Fire!"

A blanket of deadly energy penetrated the swirling gases of the nebula and out into the void beyond. A wide-angle, low-power firing pattern sought to bring the crew their prize. Everyone on the bridge tingled with excitement, eager to see if their plan worked. Energized Nebula played havoc with Federation sensors, and Kirk had gambled, or perhaps hoped, the Enterprise would remain hidden long enough to spring the trap.

The ship eased slowly out from the energized particles,

"Sensors coming back online now Captain. Scanning... detecting a small craft…" Spock turned back towards the Captain, "Only sixty percent damaged, but I believe the self-destruct device has been disabled."

"Well done Mr. Spock, well done," said Kirk with an appreciative smile. While the trap had been his idea, it would not have been possible without the diligent work of his first officer. _Best officer in the fleet then, best officer in the fleet now._ He ordered the Enterprise to retrieve the crippled ship and bring it into the shuttle bay for inspection. Starfleet's Admiralty had been waiting almost three months for someone to catch one of these ships, and now the wait was over. Hundreds of tons of debris had been collected up to this point, but the thorough self-destruct system left nothing but inoperable shredded metal.

"So Scotty, what do we have?" asked Kirk as he and Spock entered the shuttle bay.

"I don't know yet Captain, may take a few days."

The disabled ship appeared in terrible shape, at only eight meters in length it would generally be easy for a small engineering team to look over every inch. In this case, the protective shell had been melted by phaser fire. Pieces were missing and in some cases fused with others, making it difficult to even sort the bow from the stern.

Over the next several days Scotty, Spock, and an engineering team worked round the clock trying to untangle the mysteries of the alien craft. After an exhaustive effort, and many questions from Starfleet they were able to present their findings,

"Ok gentlemen, what have you found?" Kirk sat at the head of the conference table, poring over notes and figures. Only a few days from Earth, the captain thought it best for a debriefing before the information was confiscated by Starfleet Intelligence.

Spock began,

"This unmanned ship appears to be a probe, a detection ship sent here to gather information. I surmise whoever is sending it is trying to discover all they can about us."

"How does it penetrate our sensor grids?"

"It does not appear it travels using warp technology. It is moving outside of real space, and so we cannot determine its origin. Its computer, communication, and propulsion systems are all unknown to us. The drive system was too heavily damaged to determine the exact nature of its travel."

"Outside of space?" asked Kirk.

"Yes Captain, I believe it is the only logical conclusion that can be made now that I have examined its systems. The drive system while damaged corroborates my hypothesis of how these ships are penetrating our sensor grids; they do not travel in our space."

"Scotty?"

"We have tried to talk to its computer, tried to replicate its mode of communication, we are at a loss," said the Scotsman.

"Spock, could it be from the Dominion?"

"Unknown Captain, we do not have enough data. However, this technology has never been seen before."

Kirk frowned,

"Can we stop them?"

Spock raised his eyebrow, and with everlasting patience he concentrated on strategies that could be used quadrant-wide.

"Not yet Captain, perhaps in time."

The analysis and capture tactics were shared with Sloan in the Communication Branch, which then filtered through to all the other branches of Starfleet. Despite the dissemination of information and possible tactics, probe encroachment continued unabated. Hundreds continued to penetrate Federation space on a daily basis, exploding when approached. The recent capture seemingly having no effect on their frequency or ever-increasing brazenness. What started as a slow trickle now turned to a full-on shower. Federation worlds actively sought out stealth probes hiding within their solar systems, secretly attaching themselves to asteroids or large comets. Others made landfall, entering the atmosphere of many worlds, only to explode a few minutes after touching down. No member world was left unaffected, nor were the surrounding territories of the Romulans, Klingons, Breen, Gorn, Melkotians, Ferengi, and others. Federation listening posts detected communication between other Alpha Quadrant inhabitants, each as puzzled and baffled as the other.

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Betazed - Federation World**

Yalick finished the final details of his Inash Zu pastry as four more customers walked into his store. The conversations taking place are a mixture of telepathy and verbal speech, the distinction having no significance.

"Hi Yalick, got any more of that Zu?" Asked a frequent customer unable to get enough of the fabulous food.

"Sure do Nilo, just finishing one now. How did the Admiral like the last batch?" asked Yalick with a disarming smile.

To describe Yalick, one would have to first imagine a piece of granite rock. From there, chisel a perfectly square jaw, a solid chest and back, and sturdy legs and hands. At 6'2 and a solid 220lbs. of muscle, he was far from 'soft'. Atop his head was thick brown hair, cut short and neat on the sides but a little longer on the top where it was combed to one side. But it was his eyes that undoubtedly made the man, and if it didn't seem so absurd, one would say that if you were to stare into them, they would remind you of an eagle. Deep, alluring, and deadly.

"Oh! Loved it. She keeps asking me to run over here and get more, if you keep it up you might become Starfleet's official caterer," chuckled Nilo.

Yalick had transferred from Betazed Colony 17 on the other side of the sector. His new shop only a month old, burst with delicious pastries, desserts, and lunches. "Not sure how you got the permits to open here, but, couldn't ask for a better place." The bakery was situated only a few hundred meters from the Betazed-Starfleet command building, one of several across the planet.

"You would not believe what I had to go through, I actually started the process back on '17', I wouldn't have moved here otherwise," said Yalick as he placed the Inash Zu pastry into a 'take out' box.

"Well I'm glad you did, this stuff beats the replicator ten out of ten. See you tomorrow friend!"

Nilo left the establishment as he had come, with a smile on his face. Yalick smirked and continued to serve the other customers. He had been so busy he almost forgot the Minar-Rolls in the oven, **almost**. Yalick never forgot anything, all information in his wonderfully compartmentalized brain was sorted, labeled, and set aside for further or even immediate analysis. As each customer came to and fro only a small portion of his conscience was being used to interact, bake, and tell the occasional joke. His primary-thought concentrated on his sense of perception. He saw inside the Starfleet building, inside the minds of the Admiral and junior officers. Yalick's mind moved through every square inch of the building. His new identity had allowed him around the clock proximity, and most importantly, plausible deniability. The store permit was real; his past was not. Nothing was 'real' in the sense of truth, only in the sense of records. Computer libraries had been changed, minds altered and information adjusted. 'Yalick' was as 'real' as the bedtime stories told to children, the truth only known to the teller. The baker had been busy, and at this moment he was busy listening to a briefing made by Admiral Teller to Starfleet command.

"We searched the lake again, nothing, same as before. We think it may have been another one of those damn probes. If something had been there it was long gone. Maybe destroyed, we do not know."

"There were no traces?"

"None."

"Alright, keep at it. What else Admiral?"

"We have detected eighteen more of those probes in our local sector, all self-destructed before we could even get close. The strange reading in the lake could have been one of them. We just don't know."

What Starfleet did not know was the ship in the lake was no probe, it had no association with the probes. Nearly three months ago, Yalick's ship had been violently ripped out of a hyperspace-tube only a few hundred feet above a forest on Betazed. The expulsion from the hyperspace tube was of such magnitude that his ship began to break apart, causing it to careen into the lake. Yalick had made sure that all traces were gone, a combination of Starfleet computer reprogramming and vaporization. He completed none of these tasks in person, that would have been too risky. From the moment he swam ashore from his sinking ship, he had been busy establishing exactly where he was, lying low and reading the thoughts of the local population. Over the span of several weeks and thousands of digested but unharmed minds, he began setting up his false identity, history, and eventual storefront. Yalick had worked diligently and conservatively to cover all his tracks. Betazoid's being telepaths, allowed for the ability to read the thoughts of most species, but Yalick is no Betazoid, far from it.

Able to _**control**_ multiple minds at once, he effortlessly played puppeteer as Starfleet officers changed sensor logs without memory of doing so. Debris was dealt with by phaser vaporization, orchestrated by manipulated log entries and shore leave. He had been searching for any hint of his detection, any sign if someone was 'onto' him. After a month of baking in his store he decided it safe to continue his plan. There was a lot to consider at the moment. _How do I get home? Was the attack on Ploor the final echelon of control? Why can't Mentor or the kids find me? Is my wife OK?_ Those were important questions that had to be answered, but there were many others now cropping up as he learned more and more about his current situation.

 _The Federation is being probed, something or someone wants to learn a lot about them. Someone who had not been in contact with them before,_ he surmised. _C'mon..THINK...can I help these people before I leave?_ There were many incomplete facts and partial pieces of information floating around in the minds of Starfleet officers on Betazed. A total picture was impossible from this vantage point, though he knew more than all of them combined thanks to his ability to _ **truly**_ think and consolidate the information. But there just wasn't enough information on this member world to determine if he could help them, or to discover what technology could send him home. _Time for action..._

Several mental instructions passed into the Starfleet building. Some commands were for junior officers in database management, others to security officers and a few to the Admiral. Planting fake information deep within the Starfleet system could not be rushed. There were many computer redundancies and security checks that could not be changed by any single person. Data security was continuously monitored from Earth which forced his 'puppets' to make small incremental changes over a period of time. A slight shift in classification here, Admiral-level overrides there...

 _Alright Kinnison you old space hound, time to expand_


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Opening Pitch

 **Milky Way - Delta Quadrant - UNIMATRIX 01 - Borg Primary Installation**

The relationship between the Borg Queen and Hivemind is not fully understood; what can be said is they form a symbiotic relationship that together forms The Collective. It is believed, but not confirmed, that day to day micromanagement of the ships, drones, and research is handled by the Hivemind, leaving the Queen to ponder and decide strategic direction and initiatives.

For the last several months The Collective has been sorting and analyzing droves of new information. Probes continuously penetrating Borg space in both the Delta and Beta Quadrants forced the reallocation of resources to help understand the nature and scale of such intrusions.

To the Hivemind, the endless stream of probes represented just another puzzle to solve, an unknown variable in an always changing universe. Both the Hivemind and Queen felt the ships represented a different threat level. These contrary viewpoints explicitly designed to generate differentiating outlooks, allowing in times past for the Borg to overcome many obstacles that may have proven difficult for either side to handle.

Reverse-engineering the probe's communication systems revealed their approximate origin; the Borg believing their origination somewhere deep in the Gamma Quadrant, fifty-thousand lightyears away. Several cubes had been dispatched but even at high warp they would not reach their destination for decades. The Transwarp-Hub was not yet finished and so near instant galactic travel remained unavailable.

The Queen had prioritized the completion of the 'trans-galactic-highway' over territorial expansion with the assumption that once galactic travel was available, the Borg would deposit their ships deep into enemy territory without warning.

Central to Borg civilization is UniMatrix 01, a vast network of intertwined structures stretching for a hundred kilometers in all directions. Here the central processing core of the Hivemind was housed, as well as critical nodes for major systems. While the Collective would function without them, rebuilding would be slow and brutal, certainly not desirable under any circumstances. Spacefarers foolish enough to approach this sprawling installation would inevitably be assimilated. There had been many who allowed their curiosity get the best of them, all now part of the Borg.

The Queen spent most of her time here, looking at various statistics and conferring with the Hivemind on issues both large and small. The Collective sought to assimilate all, and from their vantage point, felt certain to succeed.

On her perch, she reviewed the incoming sensor logs,

-Events Log

-Delta Quadrant, Grid 1 - 87

-27,000 probes detected

-1756 probes self-destructed

-18 probes assimilated

-Propulsion system, analyzing

-Navigation system, assimilated

-Communication system, assimilated

-Material, assimilated

-Computer core, decryption, ongoing

Satisfied with the ongoing assimilation process, she focused now on an unsolved mystery from a log entry months old.

-Events Log

-Beta Quadrant, Grid 8

-Chronometric particles detected for 0.27 seconds

- **Unknown spatial disturbance**

-Cubes 4557 / 332 sent to investigate, contact lost

-Tactical Cube 18 sent to investigate, debris identified as Cubes 4557 / 332

-Cubes 32 / 3243 / 333 / 18 / 8 / 98 - deployed for Grid 8 sweep

-Threat level : Unknown

-Analysis Priority: Identify Spatial Disturbance

Revisiting the old log lead to no further answers, but before another attempt at the mystery commenced, an alert flashed across the screen.

 **-emergency broadcast**

-Hyperspace corridors detected

-Multiple vectors

 **-actionable event**

-Raise shields

-Dispatch Cubes 783 / 3452 / 13 / 103 / 1919 / 876 / 28 / 101

-Dispatch Spheres 232 / 323 / 345 / 22 / 1111 / 87 / 320 / 843

-Dispatch Tactical Cubes 32 / 4 / 28 / 19 / 6

-938 unknown vessels detected

-Threat Level : **Severe**

With only seconds warning, a massive fleet of Imperial Star Destroyers exited hyperspace on top of the honeycomb structure that is UniMatrix 01. Upon entering real space, sheets of green turbolaser rain fell towards the sprawling Borg complex. Thousands of rounds smacked into the shields of the central Attachment Hub, the Borg within instantly vaporized. A collateral shockwave rippled along the superstructure of the Unimatrix and into the adjoining hubs. Moorings twisted like spaghetti and explosions burst through the weak points spilling atmosphere into the cold space.

Months of preparation and planning had gone into this attack and in the eyes of the Empire, guaranteed to succeed.

Onboard the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer Vigilant stood Grand Admiral Thrawn, watching UniMatrix 01 absorb hundreds of megatons of power. Target points had been distributed to the gunnery teams in advance so that overwhelming fire would be concentrated on a few key points.

No Tie-Fighters would be launched, deemed unnecessary and not suited for such a campaign. Detaching from the Unimatrix to help thwart the attack, cubes struggled under the 100:1 dog-pile, dead drones littered the skyways, and superheated plasma and metal glowed hot in cold frigid space.

Thrawn's attention was divided between the bridge windows and a 3D hologram of the engagement. Everything had been calculated and all possible scenarios devised. This was his specialty - acute planning and strategy, both tactical and strategic; _their destruction is inevitable_. Cube after cube detached itself from the UniMatrix and each destroyed in turn. The 3km sides of the cubes presented perfect targets for even the most novice gun-teams. Thousands upon thousands of turbolaser bolts were concentrated on each Borg ship until they exploded in a blinding white flash. House-sized turbolaser turrets continued firing at a feverish rate, the resulting recoil pushed the dampeners to their limit.

LIke music, rhythmic turbolaser discharges filled the hearts of the men with pride, nothing suited them like the death and destruction of their enemies. Gunnery Sergeants were screaming at their men, "Keep firing! Keep firing!" as blinding light singed their eyes and deafening noise filled their ears. Explosion after explosion of ruptured Borg warp cores and anti-matter containment fields made visibility almost impossible, but they had their orders. Fire at all costs.

Months of study had uncovered the Borg's over-reliance on subspace for their ship-to-ship communication, a weakness taken advantage of given enough resources. Jury-rigged to the hulls of eight star destroyers sat seventy-meter concave dishes, designed to pump enormous amounts of subspace-distortion into the battlefield. Now, cosmic ether vibrated under the energies never before utilized for combat.

Inside the Collective mind of the Borg, their cold and cool calculations turned into a frenzy of instructions with ever-increasing desperation.

 **-Analysis**

-weapon technology unknown

-adaption matrix -

-SIGNAL LOST-

-Connecting-

-adjust shields to modulation to 371.32

-SIGNAL LOST-

-UNABLE TO RE-ESTABLISH-

Trillions of tons of debris expanded outward from the smoldering slag that once housed all things Borg.

But the Borg kept coming.

The Imperial Fleet sat in a spherical formation, with the Super Star Destroyer Vigilant in the center. Over nine-hundred star destroyers, each with dozens of turbolasers were blasting out in all directions. Cubes, spheres and other classes of Borg ships raced to break up the ever-changing field of star destroyers. All forms of standard and exotic weaponry smacked into the Imperial Fleet. Weapon emitters cycled through as many adaptations as possible. Proton beams, molecular cutters, graviton destabilizers, slicer beams, anti-matter implosion pulses, plasma cutters, phasers, polaron beams, energy dampeners, tractor beams and the list went on.

" _ **Grand Admiral!**_ Star Destroyer Eboch is reporting that they are being boarded" reported Captain Vasis from across the bridge. Thrawn flipped a few buttons and the holographic display switched to the besieged ship, _they have found a way through the interference..._

"Increase power to gravity and subspace emitters, have the Eboch change heading to 213 mark 38"

"Yes Grand Admiral"

Within the deep recesses of the Eboch, Borg drones hacked and assimilated what they could before being gunned down. Some were cut down right away, others adapted and continued on. Every stormtrooper was being scrambled and hurried towards the problem areas, blasting and stomping anything they deemed foreign. For every stormtrooper injected with assimilation nanoprobes, half a dozen drones fell to the troopers. Gaining computer control was proving difficult for the Borg. Thrawn had ordered all critical systems disconnected from the primary or secondary computer cores, making ship-wide software take-over an impossibility.

"Ensure the Eboch-"

A massive blast jolted the bridge sideways, the sound of shrieking-stressed metal filling the air. Thrawn grabbed the corner of the holographic display table to keep himself afoot. Officers shouted and hollered to stabilize the ship and maintain defensive screens. After regaining his balance he quickly glanced out the bridge window. On the bow of the Vigilant was the finale of a giant explosion.

"Report?"

Captain Vasis was screaming into the communications pit,

"You keep the bridge shield up Lieutenant!" Rushing over to brief the Grand Admiral, Vasis wiped sweat from his brow. System overloads were cropping up all over the ship and his teams worked double-time to keep the power flowing. "Sir, a Borg cube came out of warp and hit us straight on the nose! Forward shield is buckling."

Thrawn looked into his holographic display and bore-in on the situation at hand. His red eyes darting around several screens, snapping out orders and sending adjustments to the fleet. There was layer upon layer of star destroyer between him and the ensuing battle, but he knew that his ship was the primary target. He had studied the Borg careful enough to observe they always went for the central world, or in this case, ship. Super Star Destroyers were enormous, at 19,000 meters long, and hundreds of thousands of times the volume of an average Milky Way vessel, they stood out like a lighthouse in the fog. Comparatively, the length of the U.S.S Enterprise-D, was a mere 642 meters. To the Borg, such an usually large vessel was like a Christmas feast, and their insatiable need for assimilation drove them to it. Borg Cubes measured 3000m aside, presenting perfect targets for hungry Imperial gunners.

"Any word from Admiral Piett?" asked Thrawn to his communications officer,

"Admiral Piett is reporting total destruction of the Transwarp-Hub, only a handful of Borg ships remain, half inoperative without discernible damage"

"Has his fleet suffered any losses?"

A small lump slid down the junior officer's throat before disappearing into obscurity,

"Twenty-seven star destroyers lost."

Silence.

Thrawn was expressionless, careful not to reveal his anger. _Imbecil!_

"Sir!" a junior operator was making his way over from another panel, "Eboch has gone silent, the last transmission stated their bridge had been boarded."

"Instruct the Templeton and Neyoh to form up along our port side, our number four deflector-shield is starting to buckle" snapped Thrawn. "Any shield drop will invite transporter beams, and we can't afford to get boarded under any circumstances."

A blinding flash filled the bridge, and Thrawn and the rest of the officers held their hands before their eyes; a ship had been lost. A series of kamikaze attacks finally bringing down the defenses of a fateful star destroyer.

"Send instructions to the fleet, switch to heading 83 mark 6."

The Hivemind continued to send ships from across the sector at warp 9.99, each attempting a different tactic or weapon in a bid to learn and adapt. The Queen, once a force to be reckoned with, floated as atoms in the ever growing debris field, vaporized in the opening volley of Thrawn's attack.

Across the bridge, a squat looking commander rushed towards the Grand Admiral,

"Long range sensors show more incoming!"

"Very well. Pull the Eboch towards our starboard side using tractor beams. Instruct gunnery teams to target her. If she does not radio us in the next three minutes, open fire. There is a strong possibility she is overrun." Only a pin drop may have been heard as this order was voiced.

Bridge crew members shared ominous looks and nervous exchanges,

"Yes sir."

Thrawn eyed the holographic display once again, adjusting the fleet's position and structure depending on what threat he perceived. Maintaining the broadest firing arc allowed for maximum firepower on any incoming vessel. Only overwhelming firepower from many star destroyers on a single cube would bring down the shields of the ever-adapting Borg. Wave after wave of relentless attacks pounded the fleet. As the shields withered on the ships on the outer sphere of the Imperial formation, Thrawn ordered fresh ones from the innards of the formation to replace those whose shields buckled.

"Transmission received from Star Destroyer Eboch," reported Captain Vasis. "It's a squad commander in the hangar bay, they've lost communication with the bridge, they're saying fighting has broken out all over the ship. Our response Grand Admiral?"

"Destroy her," without a hint of remorse or hesitation.

Vasis whisked across the bridge to protest,

"Grand Admiral-"

Thrawn reached out and grabbed the Captain by the wrist and pulled him close. His words a hiss of anger rather than a calm demeanor,

"If the only communication we have received is from a squad in the hangar bay, and they can't communicate with the bridge, that means they probably do not control the bridge. Which means they can't raise the shields, and if they can't raise the shields, they can't stop drones from beaming aboard from incoming Borg ships. There could be thousands of drones aboard that ship, not including assimilated officers and stormtroopers. We would have to send a legion of troops and droids to recapture her. Meanwhile, the Borg is assimilating information we do not want them to have. So, Captain Vasis, do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal"

A moment later, the unshielded Eboch exploded from the pulverizing assault. Thrawn looked down for a moment, a small sigh escaping his lips. _Losing troops and ships is sometimes necessary when winning a war, the less the better..._ With that in mind,

"Do we have an update from Lord Vader's assault fleet?"

Fifty light-years away, a Borg industrial center lay in ruin. The planet bombarded by another massive Imperial fleet, headed by Lord Vader's Super Star Destroyer Executor. Exiting hyperspace ten minutes after Thrawn's attack began, perfect timing for maximum effect. Local Borg vessels defending the planet were recalled at maximum warp to Unimatrix 01 and the planet lay defenseless.

Across the Delta and Beta Quadrants the same story unfolded over the next several weeks.

With the Collective in complete disarray, Borg production facilities were systematically destroyed before a defending fleet of Borg ships coordinated and consolidated into a counter-attack. The tremendous speed advantage the Empire enjoyed being used to full effect. A fleet of star destroyers could cross the galaxy in five days, whereas, it would take the Borg decades.

When crafting his master plan, Thrawn knew any protracted war with the Borg would eventually lead to them assimilating the necessary technology to counter the Empire both strategically and tactically. Borg weapon systems were superior in many ways, but they could not rally their ships across their territory in a reasonable amount of time. This strategic weakness was Thrawn's only hope of defeating them, he could not risk battles on equal footing. _Only a fool fights fair_

Three weeks after the campaign commenced, the dismal state of the Collective became apparent in an intercepted communications signal.

SITUATIONAL ANALYSIS

-UniMatrix 01 destroyed

-Transwarp-Hub destroyed

-288 production facilities destroyed

-170 planet facilities non-functional

-56 million drones destroyed

-18 Tactical Cubes destroyed

-377 Cubes destroyed

-413 Spheres destroyed

-Severe communication blackouts

-drone regeneration efficiency 77%

-weapons analysis 12%

-countermeasure analysis 34%

-priority analysis [propulsion]

-SIGNAL LOST-

-connecting-

-backup system online

-research hyperspace propulsion fields

-countermeasures

-SIGNAL LOST-

-connecting-

-evade and retreat

 **Imperial Galaxy - Coruscant**

The Emperor grinned from ear to ear as weekly reports arrived on his desk. _Nothing can stand against the Empire_. Four months after Q opened the wormhole, the plan he approved and Thrawn designed rolled along flawlessly. _Vader continues to believe his precious Padme will be revived, and will continue to do my bidding even with the vast expansion of our rule, I must not lose him to his own ambitions in the Milky Way..._

Military advisers expected the Alpha Quadrant to submit within a year, the entire galaxy in less than five. _Pathetic, they stand no chance against us_ he chuckled. Palpatine played his cards diligently, not giving away his advanced knowledge of the new galaxy provided by Q. The super-being wanted the humans enslaved or destroyed, but this fact could not be revealed to anyone. That goal would be obtained naturally through Thrawn's mandate to control the Galaxy.

The Emperor squinted through the heavy rain pelting the window of his large office, the sprawling city of Coruscant curving over the planet's surface. His plan to control the Imperial galaxy had taken decades, but now he could add another in only a few years. Yet as he sat and reflected, a nervousness filled a tiny crevice of his brain. The Force remained fragmented, images of the future appeared fractured and unclear. He hoped his powers would alert him to dangers, but he could not be sure. _An intelligence apparatus must be maintained._ _The Borg, the most significant threat from the other galaxy is now neutralized, but the rebels...what of the rebels?_ He mulled over this question daily. Luke Skywalker also presented a problem, allowing Vader to take matters into his own hands asked for trouble _Vader must bring his son before me, then Darth Maul and I shall destroy them both…_

 **Milky Way Galaxy - Alpha Quadrant - Earth**

Upon reaching Earth three weeks ago, all Enterprise crew members participated in debriefings and interviews by Starfleet Intelligence and other branches. Now as those priorities were wrapping up, political formalities commenced in full swing. The Presidential office lined itself wall-to-wall with dignitaries, Admirals, and reporters. Within the prestigiously large and lush office, Captain Kirk stood front and center; his gold uniform a stark contrast to the red Captain and Admiral uniforms used today.

"President Jaresh-Inyo, it is an honor,"

The President accepted the captain's hand firmly and enthusiastically,

"No Captain Kirk, the honor is all mine."

President Jaresh-Inyo stood seven feet tall with prodigious clumps of flesh on his chin and forehead, evidence of his inhuman nature. Born on Grazerite, a Federation world, he ascended to power over the decades before being chosen by the Council to run for the highest office. Long gone was the stigma and xenophobia of the previous centuries, any member world could select a representative to run for office.

"Captain, I can only understand how hard this must be for you and your crew," remorse clear and evident in his deep voice.

Kirk smiled, and looked at the Admirals and advisers seated around. Hints of awe and sparkle set within their attentive gaze. A living legend stood before them. James T. Kirk, the youngest Captain to ever sit in the chair.

"Since we arrived in this century," Said Kirk looking around slowly. He wanted to reach everyone in the room, to connect on a personal level. "...our reception has been extraordinary. Everyone has treated us with the utmost respect. But. I need to get my crew home. To their time. And. Their place." A look of disappointment replaced some of their smiles, they wanted him to stay and continue his career in this timeline. But they knew, the Enterprise had to return.

"We will Captain, we promise you we will do everything we can to help you, but please, now that you have been debriefed you must enjoy the small time you have here," said the President motioning towards his window. The Golden Gate Bridge shone in the sunlight, a beautiful spring day with vibrant warmth and color stretching into the rolling hills beyond. Kirk made his way to the window to take in the scenery. Starfleet officers and cadets hurried between buildings and campus, smiling, laughing and otherwise enjoying their time. He had done the same thing, in the same buildings over a hundred years ago. _Not much changed…_ his thoughts drifted to the conversation with Bones back aboard the Enterprise, _my duty is to these people, no matter the time..._

"A little shore leave never hurt anyone I suppose," said the captain with a smile. "Has Starfleet had any luck with the probe or spatial anomalies?"

"Yes a little, we will hold a briefing later today, you and your first officer are invited to attend. In the meantime, go and enjoy the day," said the President with a smile. Kirk smiled back, nodded to the assembled group, and exited the room.

He had several hours to kill, Bones was busy on Spacedock 01 high above Earth. Starfleet Medical invited him to pour over the medical reports of the mysterious patient from Phobos. Spock was working with Starfleet Intelligence and Stellar Cartography on probe spatial patterns, which left Kirk with little to do for the time being. Looking around, he decided to head out into the fresh air and clear his head, _what are the next steps? Do we help them now? Or try and return immediately?_

"Gentlemen," Kirk nodded as he entered the turbolift occupied by two other officers. "Does anyone know where I can get a bite to eat besides a replicator?"

Looking each man over, the captain realized one was not a man at all, but an android.

"I do not require subsistence, but-"

"No. Of course not... Mr. Data?" asked Kirk, his keen eye looking the robot up and down. He had read about him on his three-month journey to Earth.

"Yes sir," replied the surprised Data, he had not expected Captain Kirk to know of him so soon.

Kirk smiled and eyed the other officer,

"Well, how about you... Lieutenant….?"

"Gulliver sir,"

"Know of a good place to eat?"

"Pastry Farm across the walkway from door C-12 sir," said the square-jawed lieutenant. Kirk nodded at the much needed advice. Gulliver seemed larger than life, bigger by persona than just a lowly officer. If Kirk didn't know better, he'd have thought the Lieutenant was cut from a piece of granite.

"Yes.." Data accessed the city history "...opened by a Betazed merchant..." Data's eyes continued a flurry of activity "...acquired by Quark Limited.." Kirk eyed him carefully as the yellow-skinned humanoid tilted his head slightly in what seemed like confusion,

"Mr. Data. You seem to have something on your mind."

"Sorry Captain, I was just accessing the updated city-file on the cafe, it seems the original owner died in a transporter malfunction…"

"Thank you Commander, I think that is all I need to know." Minutes later, fresh air filled the Captain's nostrils as he took a deep satisfying breath outside the building. He missed the outdoor smell, growing up in Iowa provided daily doses in his youth, now almost forgotten. Enjoyment of the pleasing aroma didn't last long, interrupted by a beeping communicator.

"Kirk here,"

"Jim, are you done your meetings yet?"

"Yes I'm done. How are things going with you?"

"This patient profile, my God,"

"Why are you doing that anyway? Don't they have doctors in the 24th century?"

"I'm a surgeon Jim, that's what I do, I don't go around shaking hands of big shots," countered McCoy.

Kirk laughed at his friend's response, _typical of the doc to brush aside politics._

"Bones, you need to come down here and relax," said Kirk looking up at the sky.

"I will, but this soldier should have been dead, I mean...and she, this other one here…" he could hear Bones moving around data pads, "this one has no DNA, can you believe it? No DNA Jim."

"Where are they now?"

"Some cafe, Pastry Farm, I think it's called. Everyone is talking about it."

"Funny enough I'm headed there now,"

"Starfleet Intelligence is tailing them, they've been questioned and monitored for three months, there was no medical reason to keep them under restraint. Starfleet Medical implanted neural-regressors in the male, they have a guard near him most of the time."

Kirk finished the conversation and headed out towards the cafe. _Starfleet must have run out of questions, but I have not. Maybe I can find a connection, some...shared experience, perhaps we are all caught up together…_

Many hours had been spent listening to the audio recordings of the interviews. He knew Cienna's memory was blocked and it had not recovered since her rescue. He didn't feel confident about the soldier however, the last interview suggesting fantastic tales to inter-dimensional creatures. _I have heard many before,_

The preserved cobblestone sidewalk made for an uneven surface, the rustic bricks hundreds of years old with history buried in each. The Captain smiled and nodded to the pedestrians as he passed, most unaware of who he was, uncaring but for their daily commute. He heard people talking of their favorite holosuite stories, others setting up playdates with their children. _The Federation continues to do an excellent job of improving the lives of these people, let us hope we can keep it this way._

The captain rounded a building paralleling the cafe only to stop dead in his tracks; his knees locked up, his heart jumped. _There she is…_ Cienna sat at a table on the cafe patio, her hair and dress were blowing gently in the warm breeze and her smooth skin radiated a golden brown in the bright sun. _My...god…_ the lump slid down his throat and he regained control of his legs. He could not believe her beauty. It took another twenty steps to even notice the person she was sitting with, _That must be him...the soldier…_

Kirk approached the patio, it was surrounded by a quaint fence with potted plants evenly spaced around the exterior. He nodded to the security detail watching the two guests before stopping in front of the seated pair. 'John's' skin appeared crisscrossed with scars and blemishes, mutilated from past battles that never healed. Kirk noted the demeanor, strong, powerful, yet attentive to what Cienna was saying. _He looks like he could rip someone in half by sheer force of will..._

Cienna at first did not notice the Captain, but as she took another sip of tea, her eyes noted someone standing just to their side. Looking over, her eyes met Jim's and the radiance and beauty took his breath away. He stumbled through his introduction, one had completed a thousand times before,

"Hello, I'm Captain-"

"Kirk," her voice melted through his ears and every impulse in his brain exploded into a symphony of excitement. He wasn't sure how she knew, but it did not matter at that exact moment. His devilish grin and steely eyes caused her to return a smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you. Do not worry, I am not a mind reader, your uniform gives you away." Teeth whiter than white, straighter than straight, and smoother than pearls lined her mouth. No smile, anywhere, could match.

Kirk felt himself blushing and broke eye contact before his face turned a bright red. Turning to the solder,

"And are you... John?" asked the Captain, extending his hand towards the man seated across from her.

"Yes," meeting the captain halfway with a firm handshake. Kirk noted his hand. Cold, crushing, and rough. His casual civilian clothes a complete contrast to the lifeless eyes now locked with the captain.

 _Maybe it's the neural-regressor_ thought Kirk. _No man can be that dead inside._

Their handshake slowed, but they did not relinquish. 'John's' face revealed no expression, no care, no concern. Inside the eyes, Kirk felt something looking back at him, _who is this man?_ But the stare and darkness felt bottomless, endlessly deep and void. _Are you my friend? Are you my enemy?_

Cienna cleared her throat, directing it towards the soldier. 'John' pulled his hand back before the captain asked to join them,

"May I sit?"

"Of course," said Cienna, offering the seat beside her with a small pat of her hand.

"I am Captain of the Enterprise, a ship eighty-years out of place-"

"Yes, I have been debriefed. I suppose Starfleet Intelligence deemed me not dangerous."

"Well that is good to know." Smiled the captain. He noted that 'John' did not comment on a possible debriefing of his own. Instead, the stare continued, the coldness and strangeness seeping into Kirk's body. A chill ran down his spine. _Keep your friends close...and your…_

A waiter placed a cold drink in front of the captain which snapped him out of his daydream,

"It seems we are trapped here together...in this time and place," he said looking around. "I've also had a chance to review the interviews conducted with each of you. That being said. I'd like to hear it from you. Cienna, what is your connection to John?"


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Blind

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Earth - Starfleet Command**

Recalled to Earth to deliver Cienna and report on the oddities surrounding the Elop star's nova, the Enterprise-D remained in orbit to help Starfleet Command understand what occurred four months ago. Cause and effect remained elusive, with no causality in sight.

The Federation worked tirelessly to try and grasp the entire situation. Similar meetings held on other member worlds all sought answers to events they scarcely understood. The strange space phenomena stopping no sooner than it had started, with only four known occurrences within Starfleet or ally sensor range. The following four points seemed most pressing, with other minor issues including Dominion activity taking a back seat.

-A displaced outer planet in the Betazed system with no accompanying ship or person.

-The Enterprise from another era moving eighty years into the future,

-An incredible half-nova in the Elop system with a distressed ship and a mysterious visitor caught in its wake.

-An unknown man in a suit of bloodstained armor appearing half materialized in the frozen ground on the Martian moon Phobos.

All gravitational anomalies coincided with visitors or time traveling ships, except one. Betazed.

Starfleet checked and re-checked logs at the local Betazed branch, nothing appeared to be missed. Starfleet remained befuddled, baffled, and perplexed. They did not know of the powerful visitor.

Why is this happening? An important and fundamental question they could not answer. To compound the problem of solving the puzzle, waves of penetrating probes now touched the four corners of Federation space. Were they related to the space phenomenon? What is their origin? Who is sending them? Why are they sending them? What threat do they pose? Initially, all assumed the Borg as culprits, but thanks to Captain Kirk those early assumptions were debunked. The capture of the damaged probe giving insight into who is _not_ sending them rather than who is.

Round-the-clock, engineers worked to reassemble the damaged or destroyed probes littering the solar systems with little success. The technology too different from Alpha Quadrant standards to fully grasp. Probe computer cores all possessed heavy encryption, with the propulsion systems making even less sense. Diplomatic outreach to other Alpha Quadrant empires hastened to try and determine what the others knew without giving too much away; discussion to share information continued in circles.

Inside the nerve center of all things strategy, Captain Picard took another sip of cold water to soothe his parched throat. Discussion pertaining to minor and major events continued into a third hour. Around a sizeable twenty-meter table with screens plastering the walls sat senior leaders of Starfleet Command as well as two members of the Federation Security Council.

"Captain, I would like to ask you a question about the Dominion," said Council Member Peron from Vulcan. "You studied the information as well as we have, what are your thoughts?"

"Council Member, we simply do not have enough information to make a determination. We must be mindful to not make assumptions about their intentions and motives,"

Peron keyed a few buttons, and the hologram above the table shifted to show a tactical overlay of the Alpha Quadrant, a small red blinking dot standing out against the solar systems.

"You are of course familiar with Bajor; if it were not for them, we would not control the wormhole into the Gamma Quadrant."

"Yes of course," replied Picard, studying the overlay. The wormhole, located only a few hundred thousand kilometers from the Bajoran planet is the only link to an unexplored region of the galaxy known as the Gamma Quadrant. Taking over sixty years to make the fifty-thousand light year journey with conventional warp drive, the wormhole created a natural bottleneck of control and influence. The Bajorans were not members of the Federation; instead, they allowed for joint management by way of Deep Space 9.

"We would like the Enterprise to proceed through the wormhole to try and make contact with the so-called, Founders." Picard nodded in approval; _we cannot in our haste judge those whom we do not know_

"Is the Enterprise to be expected? The Vorta are adamant that they speak for the Founders." Asked the captain.

Director Sloan cut in,

"We have been in communication with the Vorta, but we need to discover who is behind them. What are their motives? What do they want?"

Council Member Peron turned to face the newly assertive Director.

"I see you are taking your new responsibilities as head of Starfleet Intelligence seriously, but please remember we cannot condemn those due to lack of information,"

Sloan let off an icy smile and turned his attention back to Picard.

"My apologies Council Member, I just hope the captain is aware this is a fact-finding mission, not just a diplomatic meet-and-greet." Operatives both official and unofficial had been attempting to ascertain who precisely the Founders were. Traders, smugglers, bartenders, no one seemed to know. _How can no one know who these people are? Who is in charge over in the Gamma Quadrant?!_ This idea of not knowing irked Sloan to no end. In his new post, the Director could control undercover operatives as well as Section 31, each unaware of the other. _It's clear the Dominion are behind this, I just need to prove it to boost political support. We better find out soon, or we are toast._

Considering the Vorta's reluctance to introduce the Founders to any Starfleet representative, Picard felt it brazen to merely send the Enterprise-D through the wormhole.

"It seems to me, that we are experiencing a little pushback when it comes to exploring the Gamma Quadrant. The Dominion is laying claim to thousands of light-years, is that correct?"

Admiral Ross who oversees DS9 and surrounding sectors voiced a particularly frustrated summary.

"The Vorta say the Dominion has occupied that region of space for hundreds of years. The exit to the wormhole in the Gamma Quadrant is apparently in the heart of their territory. They do not want us there. Ships we sent through have all been escorted back; only traders and gun-runners are allowed free passage."

"They appear to have no problem coming here, however," noted Picard.

"They keep coming into the Alpha Quadrant on diplomatic missions-" Ross did not get a chance to finish.

"Can we not block the wormhole?" asked another Admiral.

This time, Council Member Dundas, representing Earth piped in,

"On what authority? That isn't Federation space, it's Bajors. There are hundreds of ships a month that go to and fro between both Quadrants, are we to stop them all? In case you haven't figured it out, we hold no moral authority here. Why do we get to decide who enters the Alpha Quadrant and who doesn't? Bajor can't enforce a blockade on their own, and if we help them, we are just as guilty. We need a treaty signed with the Dominion to allow for fair and free access."

This assessment sparked a debate between several officials, the speakers being unimportant.

"Did the Ferengi sign a cross-border agreement?"

"No idea."

"Rumour is the Cardassians are trying to sign one as well."

"Well, it's only a rumor…"

"Shouldn't we know?'

"How?"

Dundas wrestled to keep control of the conversation.

"We procured a solution for the Gamma Quadrant, the Defiant. She is being sent to DS9 right now, she should arrive in less than a week,"

"Well that is a relief, that borrowed Romulan cloaking device took us three years to negotiate. Truthfully I'm more concerned about this Cienna character," said Admiral Paris.

"Oh?" Picard raised his eyebrow,

"It seems to me, that your Counselor Troi determined she told the truth regarding her memory loss. And even after several weeks of interacting with your crew, nothing more has come to light."

"Yes Admiral, that is correct."

"Jean-Luc...how can she come from another galaxy and not know more than just her name and a few vague details?" Sloan's question raised eyebrows, undoubtedly voicing an opinion some shared.

"That was logged in my report, both mine and Counselor Troi's."

Sloan glanced down at the report, _this doesn't make any sense, what masters is she talking about? What a disaster. Will need to get Section 31 on this pronto._

"Yes, I've read it. Just doesn't seem right to me,"

The peppering of questions continued. Food and drinks were brought in, and the discussion stretched for several additional hours. The crux of the problem facing Starfleet resided in the fact that too much was happening simultaneously without enough information to support a strategy. Sensor ranges, measured in millions or perhaps in some cases billions of kilometers, while appearing impressive, were in fact entirely inadequate for seeing beyond the confines of Federation territory. What transpired in one small section of the galaxy may, or may not be happening in other areas. Were the spatial phenomena universal? Or galactic? Was it concentrated?

None of these questions could be answered.

"Director Shannon, can you explain to me again how the Enterprise moved eighty years into the future?" asked Dundas looking down at his datapad.

Shannon, the chief scientist for Starfleet Command cleared his throat,

"We are now confident that a fold in space-time occurred near the demilitarized zone. We are equally convinced the same chronometric frequency was present on Phobos, in the Elop system, and near Betazed. They are all linked."

"Could it be the Q?" groans could be heard around the table. That possibility existed to the assembled group, but it was utterly unprovable.

"If it is the Q, we may as well stop researching and investigating this now, there is no pattern or reason," said Dundas dismissively.

"If I may," Sloan inched forward in his chair and looked around the room at each of the senior officers, "If it is the Q, there could be a reason." This seemed to make everyone uneasy, yet they could not deny this possibility. No one was sure how to proceed, there just wasn't enough information.

"I am reading the report on the woman Cienna. She says she was sent here...no sorry," Dundas quickly switched back to another data page, "...she was inside her master's ship. Not from this galaxy, or at least she does not believe it so... Not in this galaxy? How is that type of travel even possible? Why are we not interrogating her Sloan?" This question surprised many at the table; Starfleet did not interrogate. There existed a fine line between interrogation and questioning; a line walked a thousand times on a hundred planets, but not crossed.

"We are allowing her and the soldier from Phobos to move about. They alone are no threat, but that does not mean we cannot gain valuable information. We are monitoring them around the clock. It appears the woman knows the soldier...the slightest slip and we will pounce on them. In fact, I was just told as of right now they are meeting with Captain Kirk at the Pastry Farm."

"Captain Kirk, surely you do not suspect him of anything?" Scoffed an Admiral.

"We in Intelligence assume nothing and verify everything," responded Sloan, his eyes as cold as ice. His cheekbones pulsating with disdain. _All that matters is the prosperity of Starfleet, and no hero from the past is going to blind our vision, we will solve this problem_

"This is preposterous!" shouted another,

"Are you saying Kirk is in league with these people?" More shouts and disagreements were hurled at Sloan, but he sat motionless and unaffected. Finally, after a minute, Council Members Dundas and Peron rose from their seats and addressed the hot collared officers.

"We are going to meet with the President to advise him of our recommendations; please continue your work. We realize it is difficult, but we must get to the bottom of all this, dismissed."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Cardassian Homeworld**

"Ambassador, for the last time, we are within our rights to mine ore from the demilitarized zone. We have even issued the colonists joint-venture mining permits," said the head of the Cardassian Detapa Council, the chief governing body of the Cardassian Union which borders the Klingon and Federation territories.

"We are not saying you cannot mine ore, what we are saying is, when Cardassian miners set up mining facilities, they must issue joint-venture certificates. Either the Colonists start mining with you, or your people must stop," said John Tilbury, a Federation diplomat.

"You are pushing the filthy colonists into Klingon territory with this mining; we do not want your dogs," spat the Klingon ambassador, also present at the discussion. A treaty between the Cardassian Union and Federation had led to the transfer of dozens of colonized worlds whose inhabitants refused to relocate. The colonists who were once Federation citizens now existed in diplomatic purgatory. This swath of space where no clear owner held rights, was referred to as the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone. "In the last six years, the Klingon Empire has registered over one-hundred thousand migrant dogs. We are no longer allowing them to move into our territory. Your colonists are not wanted!"

"One hundred thousand? Surely, Ambassador, you are exaggerating," said a Detapa Council member.

"Why are you talking like we are not here?" asked the representative of one of the colony clusters. The colony worlds were no more united than the countries of 20th century Earth; some grouped together politically while others pursued their own path. This loose governance made negotiation tricky, and is the primary reason why nothing of any weight could be accomplished diplomatically.

"Quiet, you are lower than a Melarian Slime Beetle, we-" said a Detapa Council member before being interrupted,

"You will not talk to us that way! Your mines are ruining our worlds; the planets are dying. All we ask is you leave us in peace! We have never bothered you, we are farmers, and builders, we want to be left in peace!" She shouted. The representative spun on her heels to leave but never took another step.

 **BOOM!**

A massive explosion ripped through the chamber and blasted its way into the surrounding buildings. Overpressure, measured in millions of atmospheres snapped the reinforced walls like toothpicks. The Capital building seemed to expand, and then with nothing left to hold it up, collapsed into a smoldering ruin. Smoke billowed thousands of feet into the air, and fires raged in all directions. The horrific scene a mix of shredded bodies and duranium alloy.

Local officials scrambled, with a full evacuation order disseminating into the population shortly after. Planetary lock-down came next. Less than an hour later, secured in an emergency bunker, new heads of government were sworn in. A one-kiloton bomb had been planted beneath the Detapa's chamber. Every person within the building was now dead, including a Dominion delegation who occupied the twentieth floor.

"Send a message to the Klingon's, Federation and Dominion, tell them we are under attack and that we will send them a casualty list when it is available," snapped Gul Dukat, newly appointed ruler of Cardassia.

"Message coming in from the Vorta onboard the Dominion ship in orbit," reported an aid,

"Put it through."

 **"** Gul Dukat, this is Weyoun, what can we do to help?"


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Destiny

 **Imperial Galaxy - Outer Rim - Outland Transit Station**

Outland Transit Station, the most notorious, scum-ridden trade outpost in the galaxy is situated far from regular commerce routes. Eighty-thousand pirates, scoundrels, traders, gamblers, and prostitutes called it home, with another ten million visitors coming throughout the year. A one of a kind cesspool of vice and immoral-aptitude.

The heavy clunking noise of the trios boots disappeared into the vast multi-story hanger bay. Stretching for several kilometers, it serviced many small and medium-sized merchant ships on a daily basis.

Han, Chewie, and Luke slowed their pace, looking around to take it all in.

"Smell that kid?" A big whiff filling the smuggler's lungs, the damp atmosphere drifting with dank stale filth. _Still the same_

"Great Han, where to?" asked Luke. The smell reminded him of old mildew, the same in the cave on Dagobah.

Their mission, to uncover the details of a 'new day' initiative the Empire launched several months ago. Word continued to spread throughout the systems that the Imperials sought bounty hunters looking for a change of scenery. Yes, it is true the Empire often recruited bounty hunters to achieve specific goals deemed politically sensitive, but this program captured all the necessary ingredients of a galaxy-wide effort. According to rebel spies, thousands of recruited bounty hunters were carted off in various directions without a trace. The underground information web spun far and wide, and yet even in the whispers in the dingiest of bars on the most forbidden worlds their fate seemed uncertain. Han counted on his old connections to help the Rebellion ascertain the 'hunters' locations. Chewie murmured something to Han as the three rested up against a guardrail overlooking one of the 'streets' in the merchant district.

"You said it...lost a lot of money here," said Han staring out into the sea of bobbing heads, whistling as the memories came pouring back, "...lots...of money." Chewie growled while pointing a hairy finger towards one of the commercial stands,

"Wow, it's still here, lost eight thousand credits in that dump." Chewie shot him a look, "...you said I had until next year to pay you back."

Luke felt uneasy, his initial reservations about the mission being verified by the second.

"Han, are you sure we are going to be able to walk around here, maybe someone you swindled is going to recognize you,"

The smuggler turned his head in total shock,

"Luke, we did many good deals around here, right Chewie?" said Han slapping his friend's shoulder. "...we did good deals, hardly any of them went sour. A few went sour...actually…" Luke could not help but roll his eyes as he saw doubt creeping onto Han's face, "...we had a few bad ones...really bad… but a few good." Han offered a smug nod and the trio started off towards the merchant sector.

Pushing through hordes of vermin-pirates and sweaty inhabitants, music and shouting bombarded their ears as each shop, canteen, bar, or storefront offered something different. The internal maze-city, closely resembling a shanty-town, felt overrun with homeless merchants and drug runners lying low or unconscious between the stores. Luke's senses stayed on high alert, his hand no more than a few inches from his lightsaber beneath his brown cloak.

After a long walk, Han stopped in front of a rundown Deli.

"Karm, how are ya?" asked Solo with a grin. Disgusting clumps of tentacle and fish slop overflowed from a trough and oozed onto the sticky floor. A slithery alien with twenty eyes twitched, making strange gurgling noises while it jabbered at Solo.

"Oh, I forgot about that, uh, listen, I'm a little short…" Karm repeated the same sound sequence, and Han couldn't hide his reluctance as he leaned towards Chewie. "Just pay him what I owe, and then we can get the info and get out of here."

Luke watched in amazement, _there must not be a single person Han has not double-crossed or cheated._ Chewie handed over the credit chips which Karm counted carefully before ushering them into a back room where an enormously fat alien waited.

"Solo, you scoundrel, what brings you to this corner of the galaxy?" asked the repulsive merchant, its flabby flesh quivering all over.

"Need some information,"

"Oh ya?" He slobbered.

"Heard there are some good contracts for bounty hunters,"

"I sell fish, what do I know?"

Luke carefully looked the man over, not with his vision, but through the Force. He sensed weakness, fear, joy, passion, drive and many other aspects of the fat merchants being. He felt his weak mind, and how quickly it could be tricked or convinced. _I should tell these people_ was the mental suggestion.

A moment later,

"Ok, listen, I get contracts, but I farm them out, I get twenty percent." _I should tell them everything_ came the next impulse. "These contracts are for information gathering; it's crazy Han! Crazy! The Empire wants these bounty hunters to find them information, to blend in, I don't know. I guess they hide and get information, or they become citizens, I'm not sure really. Fifteen thousand credits for six months, it's great."

Han raised an eyebrow, _that is a lot of money,_

"Where are they going? What information?"

"I don't know where they go, but I know they have to go get a new ship in the Kuat docks, custom built for them. Can you believe it? Custom built ships for bounty hunters!"

"A new ship and lots of money, I'd like one of those contracts, but where do I go? What part of the galaxy do I end up in?"

"Ask my boy Ruuni; he just got back."

Luke felt a sudden danger! A blaster aiming to take a shot directly behind him. Spinning around and igniting his lightsaber, a bolt struck his saber and deflected back to its shooter. A hole the size of a fist blew through the chest of an unknown alien. Panic and chaos erupted in the streets and screams and confusion swept the marketplace. All around, merchants and customers alike dove under tables or leaped through doorways, anything and everything to find cover. But Luke moved undeterred towards his would-be assassin. As the steaming body slumped to the floor, Luke drove in with the power of the Force, _this is Runni._ He pushed his abilities to the limit, _where have you been? What have you seen?_ _There it is..oh my…_ Vivid images flashed and ebbed. _Another galaxy…_ While trying to process the experiences, another sensation swept over him, _**something**_ else.

One he had not sensed since… _Yavin_

Luke reached out with a hand and shoved his friend aside,

"Han get down!"

The flimsy merchant wall exploded inward with chunks of durasteel and polycrete blasting all over. Luke spun around to meet the intruder. Red and blue lightsabers connected in a torrent of energy.

 _Vader! This is impossible!_ Luke saw his own reflection staring back at him through the slick and shiny armored helmet. Both men were locked in place, unwavering.

A Force projection of dark power obliterated the room and Han and Chewie sailed through the air, tumbling end over end through people and merchandise. Luke felt the darkside power, pushing into him, not allowing for disengagement to help his friends. Everything he could muster focused on the Dark Lord.

And focus he did.

Luke disconnected his lightsaber and struck hard, letting his strength and Force energy flow into a single swing. Connecting with a tonnage of power, Vader's wrists buckled under the stress. The Dark Lord disengaged and stepped back, he did not expect such a blow.

 _The boy is strong,_

Luke pushed forward, his sword held, his legs held, his arms held, his soul held.

Vader retreated under the onslaught. Both sabers slicing through errand tables, shelves, and equipment. Swatting left, then right, both high and low, Luke pushed, stabbing and parrying, spinning, and twirling, and as he did, he rose in spirit. Sweat pooled in his hair as his body expended vast amounts of energy. But somewhere deep down, in the recesses of his psyche, lay untold ethers of power.

More potent than Vader anticipated, new tactics came to bear,

 _There is much to learn young one._

A metal shelving unit disconnected from the wall and rushed towards Luke's head; the rebel ducking and rolling just in time to avoid decapitation. Vader lunged forward in a vain hope of gaining an advantage, but there existed none to be won. Luke leaped back onto his feet, snapping on his lightsaber and catching Vader's stroke in mid-swing.

Again they locked eyes,

"I have been expecting you, young Skywalker," rumbled Vader.

Brittle displays smashed to the ground, and fire leaped from one shelf to another as both lightsabers slashed and parried. Making their way out onto the street, Luke continued to land sledgehammer blows. Thirty feet away Han and Chewie untangled themselves from a garbage pile but were quickly knocked to the ground by a pair of waiting gun-drawn stormtroopers.

"Luke, I have foreseen this." Lightsabers crisscrossed again and again. Vader fully adjusted to Luke's power; their duel balanced in every such way, one unable to best the other. "I sense," struggled Vader under the stress of the fight, "that you have too." Luke continued to ignore him, instead he desperately sought an advantage, up-down-left-right-sideways, all attacks parried or avoided.

By now hundreds of merchants rushed for safer areas or took up spectator positions on the handrails above. No one had seen a Jedi in twenty years.

No one had believed there were any left.

"Luke," Vader grumbled, "We fought in a cloud city," Luke disconnected his lightsaber and stood back.

"Why should I listen to you?" he managed to say, his chest heaving, his hair a mess.

Then, Luke heard Vader's voice in his head, _**It was another life, another existence.**_ He attacked the Dark Lord again with new vigor. He did not understand why this murderer conversed with him, the man who killed his Aunt and Uncle, the man who almost killed Leia.

 _He is going to pay!_

Each consecutive blow came stronger than the previous, Luke's anger swelling with every memory. But his attacks met equal violence. Vader employed all the tricks in his arsenal. Bodies, chairs, walls, shelves, garbage, and more, flew through the air to try and distract Luke from his concentration.

To the untuned observer, it would appear Luke's two companions watched helplessly, but that is far from the truth. Each stormtrooper watched their Master battle in the center of the large court, paying little attention to either prisoner laying in front of them. As the eyes of the troopers followed Vader and Luke, Han's hand cautiously slipped into his satchel, rummaging slowly for a thermal detonator, careful not to attract attention.

 _There it is…_ Taking a deep breath, Han suddenly blurted out,

"Watch out kid!"

Immediately, Chewie swiped both stormtrooper's legs, causing them to fall on their backs. Han tossed the thermal detonator like a grenade while simultaneously drawing his blaster and cracking off a shot.

Vader sensed the danger and spun wildly, barely able to catch the bolt before it struck. Luke dove backward into a pile of trash just as the thermal detonator exploded.

 _ **BOOM!**_

For the next several seconds complete and utter chaos erupted on the merchant level. Smoke and debris filled the air, and the deafening sound of the explosion burst eardrums and caused concussions all around. Chewie snapped the necks of both stormtroopers while Han coughed and staggered to find his friend.

"Luke!? Luke?!"

Through the smoke and commotion of panicking bodies, Luke appeared, soot and dirt covering his once clean clothing.

"Let's get outta here!" Screamed the smuggler, grabbing his arm and yanking him closer.

The trio set off towards a staircase and away from the lower merchant level. Han and Chewie taking the lead, bowling over any hapless trader or merchant unfortunate enough to step into their path. Luke backpedaled the entire way, deflecting blaster bolts and slashing and cutting when needed.

Troopers and officers called out in all directions to try and get a fix on the marauding rebels, but it did not take long to find them.

Han kept his head down, plowing forward like a wild man, his frenzied and quick hip-shots having all the ingredients of a man unhinged.

"Faster kid! Faster!"

Tables, chairs, and knickknacks were being smashed or tossed aside, with blaster fire ringing out in all directions. Han cracked shots left and right, up and down, often yelling in surprise as a trooper came around the corner unexpectedly. Imperial unit cohesion fell apart before the first round was fired, the chaotic mess of people, debris, fires, and smoke set a nightmare scenario. Many troopers dying without even having raised their weapon, caught off guard on a blind corner or alleyway.

Minutes later, the trio raced up the stairs and past the security checkpoint; the Falcon now in sight.

"Get up there and get her started, we'll hold them off!" Shouted Han to his Wookie friend. The ramp of the Falcon lowered, and Chewie wasted no time running up like an out of control freight train.

Han turned back and took a knee behind the landing gear, with Luke deciding to stay in the open preparing to deflect blaster bolts. They came. The hull of the Falcon sparked and hissed from dozens of impacts. More than ten stormtroopers prepared to break out into the open, they knew that the rebels were about to escape, and in their earpieces officers screamed at them to advance.

"Han, we need to leave, now. Go." A few deflected bolts were sent back towards the grouped troopers before both Han and Luke safely boarded their ship.

"This is gonna be close." Outside Han could see an anti-ship tripod being secured to the floor. Systems hummed and servos whined under an accelerated startup sequence, seconds slowed under the stress. Finally, the Falcon lifted off and blasted out of the hanger.

"We made it," said the exhausted Solo. "Vader? How did he know we were there? He was waiting for us."

"I don't know, but he's alive, I can sense it, the detonator didn't get him," replied Luke. He felt the Force 'wall' Vader had raised to protect himself from the blast. The energy had sent him across the room, but he was unharmed.

"You sure? That was point blank."

Luke did not reply; instead, he looked out into the whirling vortex of hyperspace. He heard Vader in his mind,

 _ **We were there Luke, in the clouds, on the walkway, it was you and I, father and son.**_

Luke's legs buckled, causing him to reach for the passenger seat to steady himself; he experienced the same vision, but thought it a dream. Retreating back into the Falcon, he sat alone and meditated. For a long time he stayed silent, searching the absolute fringes of the Force.

He knew the truth, somehow, something had changed; but the truth remained.

"Father,"

 _ **Son…**_

"I know what you want to do, I can sense it," whispered Luke,

 _ **Join me, it is the only way**_

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Earth**

Cienna's eyes watered in frustration, her lost memories still hidden beyond her reach. She so desperately wanted to explain to Kirk her origins, and how she and 'John' seemed tied together. More than an hour passed since the three sat down at Pastry Farm just outside Starfleet Command, but the conversation had hit a wall. When Cienna looked at 'John,' spoke to him, stood near him, a resounding sense of familiarity enveloped her. _Why do I feel so connected to him? He is savage by nature, brutal, yet I can't stop being near him._

As Cienna dried her eyes, Kirk continued studying both of them, as they equally studied him; evaluating his intentions and demeanor.

"You know, I have a friend, someone who could help you. Someone who could help you unlock what is in there," he said with a smile while pointing towards her forehead. "He's a Vulcan." The captain's boyish smile radiated out and Cienna felt the warmth and genuine care that created it.

Glistening like soft pearls, the mysterious woman's eyes lightened at the thought,

"I would like that very much," she said with a brilliant smile.

Kirk returned a half smile, but found himself more interested in what lay behind the gorgeous eyes and smile. _Who is this woman, what does she want? What does she know? Maybe 'John' can shed some light?_

"And you... soldier. I do not believe your memories are blocked, I just think no one understands you."

'John' had been watching their interaction intently, hiding his true emotions behind a sheet of steel. He feared no man, no action. _But Cienna… Cienna, you are something special._ Dull and lifeless eyes studied Kirk intently, a will as equal, but tattered and hidden from view.

"What do you want to know,"

"Who were you fighting, why were you fighting them?"

"Demons, monsters, whatever you want to call them. I fought them, all of them, not just some. I died…" 'John's' voice trailed off, seemingly reliving the events in his head, somewhere else, somewhere in his past. "I died a thousand times, but kept coming back, fighting. I crawled through hoards, skin removed from my knuckles and fingers. I was brought back again and again to fight those things,"

"What things? Demons aren't enough 'John,' what were they?" Kirk leaned in, pressing the issue.

"The portal, there was a portal that the scientists opened, some sort of portal, they said they got it out of a book, maybe the same one I saw, but I don't know. The things that came out-"

 _ **They were not us, only the features we have begotten on mankind**_ 'John' winced in pain at the stabbing voice in his head. One all too familiar, a terrifying point of contact between him and _**THEM**_. On 'John's' temples, each neural-regressor wildly beeped in alarm.

"Stick with it 'John,' tell me" demanded Kirk, slamming his fist down on the table.

"They were just their images, images that could be seen and understood, but they are beyond the images, beyond those things. They speak to me, even now, I can hear them muttering,"

 _ **Deeper than thought we tread, deeper than your subconscious, in your soul and heart we exist,**_

"Oh god!"

Kirk looked over at the guards, but to his surprise, they did not move, they stood watching, emotionless. He then noted a few customers in the restaurant, equally still and emotionless. But he did not have time to delve into this occurrence, the soldier screamed in pain before him.

"What do they want 'John'? What are they telling you?!" Kirk shouted the question, he did not have time to play around.

"They want me to open a doorway, they-"

 _ **Yog-Sothoth knows it, Yog-Sothoth is it, when the words are truly spoken and rights howled through in their seasons.**_

Both Cienna and the captain could see the mental anguish on the face of the Marine.

 _This cannot continue, there must be a way...why are the neural-regressors not working? There must be a way to get more information without torturing him, without this level of pain._

As if fate were answering his request, Spock, now finished at Starfleet Intelligence stepped onto the patio. 'John's' eyes were closed, his breathing deep and steady, trying to relax the best he could.

"Spock, I am hoping that you could mind meld with each, to help unlock memories and relieve this man of his pain."

"Certainly," Spock pulled up a chair and sat down beside Cienna, "I cannot proceed without your expressed consent, nor can I guarantee success."

"I will do anything to remember, please help me."

"Close your eyes…" Spock gently placed his fingers along her cheek and forehead, he sought entry into the mysterious memories, a pathway to bring them to the surface. To his surprise, no matter how deep he delved, the emptiness remained, totally devoid of anything meaningful. After a minute, he removed his hands from her cheek and sat back,

"I'm sorry, I cannot read your-"

Cienna shot out of her chair, standing straight up, frozen,

"I can remember, I... I can remember everything,"

Still gentle, still beautiful, but her soul appeared to have aged a thousand years. She looked down at each of the men before stopping at 'John,' profound sadness washing over her otherwise perfect face.

"I was to entrap you, to do the bidding of my masters. To have you open the gate. You are right, the creatures you fought are not the true things… what you fought were just slaves, beasts that cherished those which torture you. The gate brings things from another place, there is no language to describe them, no picture to show them... We found them, in a book called the Necronomicon, and you have been healed and healed again, died and died again, a fragment of them, the smallest of parts is now part of you. It is all an elaborate plan. We are…" she stopped for a moment as she took it all in, the emotions, the lost memories now made available. "My master's have an alliance with them, to bring them through."

As Cienna rehashed her history, 'John' placed his hands to his temples, these sudden revelations causing waves of impulses to race through his mind.

 **Only you can save her! When the time is right, as it will be again.**

"But why?" Asked Kirk, trying not to distract himself with the convulsing facial pain covering 'John's' face.

"To win the war."

"Which war?"

"All wars, in all times, in all realities,"

Kirk stared at her in disbelief, not because he did not believe her, but from the ramifications of such a suggestion.

"Fascinating, I did not think I had touched your mind. Evidently, I did," said Spock, thoroughly perplexed. Kirk's communicator beeped, interrupting his train of thought.

"Kirk here,"

"Captain Kirk, Lt. Commander Gulliver," Kirk looked down at his communicator, recognizing the name. Gulliver whom the captain ran into in the elevator no more than an hour ago, had ascended in rank.

"Promoted so soon Gulliver?"

"Yes Sir, sorry to disturb you, but your older device isn't set to receive broadcast messages. Admiral Ross has issued a priority 1 message, you are ordered by Starfleet Command to briefing room A13."

"Acknowledged, Kirk out," just as his communicator snapped closed, an ominous siren swept across the bay. Everyone on the patio bolted,

"Let's go!" Kirk hurried to his feet, but not before grabbing Cienna gently by the wrist, "but you're coming with me, I need your help," he said looking deep into her eyes. _What she knows could mean life or death to the galaxy._ "You too soldier."

 **Briefing Room A13**

Packed full of directors, captains, and branch leaders, all anxiously awaiting the presentation to begin.

Finally, after a few minutes, Admiral Ross made his way to the podium,

"Attention. Attention. As of right now, Earth and all member worlds are on Priority 1 lockdown. Cardassian Prime has been attacked; we are getting reports our diplomat was killed along with the entire Cardassian Detapa Council." The room erupted with questions, but Ross waved his hand to silence it,

"Cardassia is holding us personally responsible for the death of their Council members. They sent us their security footage; Director Sloan believes it to be authentic." Ross let out a regretful sigh before continuing, "It shows our diplomatic security team planting a bomb under the chamber an hour before the blast. They believe we tried to frame the colonists." Crosstalk and arguing rose again before being silenced. "Attention! There is more. As of eight minutes ago, a fleet of Dominion ships has set up a blockade on the Alpha Quadrant side of the wormhole. DS9 has reported there are twenty-six medical ships on their way to Cardassian space. All merchant traffic is being boarded and inspected. Bajor is trying to talk to the Dominion about this. As everyone knows, the wormhole is not in Federation space and we have no jurisdiction over it. For now, Bajor is negotiating." Ross moved to the side to allow the Federation top diplomat to take center stage.

"The Vorta have contacted us, they lost seventy people in the building, as Admiral Ross pointed out, the Dominion are sending medical ships and supplies to Cardassia. Weyuon, for anybody who doesn't know by now, is the top Vorta representative, says the blockade is for the safety of their ships. They do not want any Federation or Klingon ships going through the wormhole until a full investigation is completed. So far, they blame us,"

Captain Kirk stood up to ask a question,

"Have we verified the identity of the security team who planted the bomb?"

"Yes, of course, Captain Kirk," said Sloan from across the room. "Their identities are confirmed."

Discussion continued but proved futile. For each idea, theory, or suggested course of action, came more questions. Instead of the puzzle pieces coming together, they pushed apart, with more dumping onto the board.

But more than Federation officers listened in on the meeting. Down the hall, another formulated his own plans, ideas and actions. Through the minds of the assembled officers, Kinnison listened, watched, and felt. Living among the people of Earth, he amassed more information than any individual, able to connect dots few knew existed. Pastry Farm's sale to Quark Ltd provided the perfect springboard to start a new identity on Earth.

He came to understand the Federation to be hopelessly behind the information curve. _There is so much they don't even realize_ , _I will need to help them while I am still here. How there are humans in this universe, I do not yet know..._

Unlocking Cienna's memory and disguising it under Spock's mind meld suited Starfleet's needs. Kinnison had also frozen the security officers reactions as well as patrons while 'John' fought with his inner demons. _His mind...something is very wrong with that mind… it's hard to tell if he's insane or not… but there are more immediate concerns. Starfleet needs to quickly expand the scope of its thinking, to look beyond the four walls of the Alpha Quadrant. They are in grave danger...but I cannot reveal myself. If they know of me, everyone will know of me. But… just because I cannot be revealed does not mean others cannot. Here. We. Go._

In the murmuring and debating crowd of Starfleet officers, a lowly Division Manager suddenly stood from his seat. A Betazoid whom everyone knew well.

"I sense something…" He did not. His mind no longer his, a slave to the infiltrator.

"OH MY GOD!" Shouted the Division Manager from the back of the room. Everyone jumped and turned around to see what prompted the shouting. Senior Commander O'Donnell, Betazoid Division Manager began twisting into a new shape. His clothes and skin dissolving into a yellow fluid, his speech a gurgle as his vocal cords turned to slime.

"Security!" shouted Admiral Ross.

Slurping and slopping in his chair, the former Betazed officer converted into the liquid form of a Changeling. It did not want to, but could do nothing to stop its own transformation, a slave to another, it's mind compromised.

Not too far off, Kinnison stood ready, _Go! Go!_ He commanded.

Ensign Veeno, the security guard outside the briefing room door charged inward, phaser drawn. Captain's, and Admirals parted like water while Venno fired center mass, striking the Changeling at maximum power. A loud shriek and the stench of burned flesh filled the room. It slumped in its chair, its liquid body solidifying into dark muck. A hundred meters away, Kinnison already started his dash towards the briefing room, running headlong towards the door; arms pumping, chest heaving.

 _Need to make this look just right_.

With a mental nudge, a group of senior officers huddling in the corner moved a few steps towards the door, just as Lieutenant Commander Gulliver came bursting in.

"Did someone call for secu-" The 'surprised' Gulliver smacked into the tightly packed group of officers like a bowling ball into pins. Datapads, communicators, phasers, tricorders and other items went flying in all directions. Curse words that cannot be printed were being tossed about as the pile of bodies tried to sort itself out.

"Gulliver! You damn fool! Be careful!" Shouted an angry commander while pulling himself off the floor.

'Bumbling' Gulliver appeared to be trying to help. But unbeknownst to anyone, he did not exist. Not in the sense of a true past or record, only in the physical, caught on camera and with hundreds of witnesses. Able to complete many tasks at once, Kinnison felt for the Changeling's mind. _Severely wounded but alive, tough bugger..._

Trying to regenerate its damaged cells, the Changeling remained motionless, hoping to fool the crowd, but it could not fool everyone. Kinnison reached out telepathically and killed it then and there, it's mind blasted. To those monitoring security footage, it would have seemed like it died from phaser fire, same with the autopsy. More security officers came rushing in and surrounded the smoldering, black muck.

"Thanks for stopping in," said Kirk as he extended his hand towards 'Gulliver' to help the man off the floor. Kinnison stood up and shook his head to feign confusion,

"Not sure what happened, heard a security call, was about twenty feet behind Veeno," he said, seemingly disoriented. All around, Starfleet personnel rushed in and out, some to their offices, others to brief their direct reports. 'Gulliver' bent over and put his hands on his knees, "I feel so stupid, I can't believe I ran into those people, I just tried to do my job…"

"It's okay Commander, you tried to get here, you had no idea they were standing there, good effort."

Kirk patted the man on the shoulder, 'Gulliver' sighed and straightened his uniform before joining the other security officers. To a Second Stage Lensman, it was easy to appear to be doing one thing, but in fact be in several places at once. He stood in the conference room, but his mind spread. 'operating' as two security guards in F building two kilometers away. Kinnison ensured their schedules parked them precisely where they needed to be for a series of events to 'randomly' occur.

As of now, the pair came around a corner when they saw an engineer hurrying towards them. Out of place due to the alert protocols enacted, the security officers exchanged concerned glances before confronting him.

"Stop!" shouted one of the officers. The engineer kept coming, they pulled their phasers and gave another warning. Against his will, the engineer continued to rush forward, every ounce of his thought trying to control his body, but to no avail. One last warning was issued before the security pair opened fire. Upon being hit the engineer mutated and shifted into a globulous liquid, it sprang forward in an attempt to escape. Six security cameras recorded the encounter, a perfect setup. Kinnison knew that all security footage would be replayed and analyzed, even someone as smart as the Android Data could not be allowed to piece it all together. In the corridor under normal circumstances, both officers would have been killed, their stun settings having little effect. Unfortunately for the Changeling, a slight delay in its reflexes is all the time required to allow the guards to switch their phasers settings to kill. It died in the next volley. A black sludge stained the carpet, both officers were released from control, each believing they had completed the task on their own. Careful to leave no trace of his telepathic presence, Kinnison disconnected himself, _not even a Vulcan mind meld at a later date will uncover this manipulation._

For weeks the Lensman observed the Changelings on Earth, dissected their minds a thousand times without their knowledge. He knew of more, plenty more, all over the Federation. _But I can't feel them at interstellar distances_. Their plans devious and bold. Kinnison's hope for the Federation lay in his desire of their greater vision, _they need to expand their imaginations...they are too soft, idealistic...sheltered. They will never be the Galactic Patrol, but something is better than nothing._

 _I can of course tell them, but it would then reveal my existence. I could plant the information in their minds, but that could lead to questions by others who may be looking…_

The Lensman still felt unsure if he came alone. _Is there something I cannot detect? Watching, waiting for a slip-up?_

The best he could figure, back in his own universe, his ship had been pulled into the hyperspace maelstrom set by the Ploorians. He remembered only being in the hyperspace tube for a moment before he felt a tremendous jolt and then the tree line on Betazed appeared.

 _Did something follow me?_ _It is impossible to know._ Ploor had been destroyed, _the pirate organization Boskone is history_. This new universe he found himself in seemed so unique, so different from the one he knew. _The Q are undoubtedly the top dogs, the biggest operators, but seem mostly passive according to Federation records_. The real struggle he figured is between near equal races, for now… _those master's of Cienna do not sound like lovely cohorts to me… but they are not here… thank god._

Back in the conference room, deliberation and analysis already began on the new discovery,

"Spock, hypothesis?" Asked Kirk,

"It seems strange that a Federation security detail on Cardassia would purposely start a war."

"Agreed...and these shape-shifting creatures, they could be anywhere."

"Affirmative,"

"We need to look at this on a big scale, we need to brainstorm," Kirk motioned for Picard to join them,

"Captain Kirk, I do not believe we have had a formal introduction," said Picard with a warm smile and firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you... now Captain...the fleet is going to be deployed shortly, we both know that,"

"I would certainly agree,"

"Can you and your Android meet Spock and I in Astrolab 3 in ten minutes?"

 **Starfleet Intelligence**

Sloan remained at his desk, not moving in several minutes. The shape-shifting infiltrators had been killed, _thank God,_ _they could be anywhere, anyone. War is coming with the Dominion, do those bastards think they can block a wormhole?! And what the hell are these things?_

Sloan fell into a daze while looking at his office wall, trying to decide, _they must be Dominion agents, what else could they be? Dominion agents make sense… probably came with the probes…_

He jammed his finger into his communications button,

"Sloan to Bakerfield come in,"

"Dewal here,"

"The scraps that the U.S.S Douglas located in the Elop system, are they of any use to us? Any indication of Dominion intentions?"

"We were just about to call you, this is unreal. We found something alive. It's some sort of, brain, we think. I don't know. Are you able to come?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"At first we thought it was...well maybe part of the Dominion, and we were asking it about probes and what not. But it's not part of the Dominion, at least we do not think. This thing says it can help us detect the probes, it's pretty smart…we can patch you through… says we need to help it survive, some sort of exoskeleton, some sort of shell. We need to help it build it so it doesn't die."

"What?! Go ahead, put me through, keep it on encryption AA-16. Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" _What the hell did they find? And...if it can help us scan for probes, maybe even more…_

"Just following your orders, you said only communicate at 08:30 on channel 22.32"

A moment later, the Director addressed the newly found 'thing' his Section 31 operative described as a brain. "This is Sloan, I am coming to meet you. If we let you rebuild your exterior shell, will you be able to boost our sensor ranges to detect the probes and maybe-"

"A-F-F-I-R-M-A-T-I-V-E!"


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Expanded Horizons

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Earth**

Captain Kirk's keen eyes swept the sixty-foot screen inside Astrolab 3. The galactic 3D topographical map expanded further and further out until all one-hundred thousand lightyears stretched from corner to corner. Picard stood beside him, with Spock and Data seated at the control panel ahead. Outlines of Alpha Quadrant territories shown clearly at the bottom left quarter of the galaxy, the Gorn, Tholians, Breen, Romulans, Klingon, Ferengi, Cardassians and a few others were prominently marked.

One must understand the daunting scale of it all, to fully grasp the complexity of the analysis before the men.

Marked in the middle of the top left quarter of the galaxy lay the exit point of the Bajoran wormhole in the Gamma Quadrant, now known or at least claimed as Dominion space. The opposite end of the wormhole is located on the Federation border in the Alpha Quadrant; this distance would take more than seven decades by conventional travel, accomplished in only minutes through the wormhole.

Interlaced throughout the galactic map blinked millions of stars and planets, with unknown billions yet to be discovered. All possible diplomatic, backroom, pirate, merchant, and military connections overlaid with religion, culture, currency and much more. All displayed by either dotted lines or shaded areas. The entire map resembled a collage of random color, instead of anything resembling an actionable dataset.

Before the four arrived in Astrolab 3, Kirk explained to Picard the details and circumstance surrounding Cienna's memory; both agreeing the information could be vital and recommended she debrief Starfleet command immediately. Security officers had been called, and she was escorted, not under guard but as a precaution to the Admirals wing on the other side of the building. Security protocols remained on maximum and medic teams accompanied by armed guard administered blood screening tests throughout the Academy and Headquarters. No person could go unchecked; no assumptions could be made. Starfleet Command was determined to find any shapeshifting aliens they could only assume roamed about. 'John' had been escorted back to security detachment 'B' where Lieutenant Worf hastily finished a last minute self-defense course to new security recruits.

The fleet, including both Enterprises in orbit, prepared to disburse within a few hours, giving precious time for both captains to pour over some vital information.

Rubbing his eyes and shaking his head in disbelief, Kirk started,

"I don't believe Starfleet officers planted that bomb, either they were coerced, or it was not them."

"Agreed..." letting out a sigh, Picard continued, "...proving it to the Cardassians will be difficult. I can't imagine them taking our word for it. No man or woman in Starfleet would commit mass murder, perhaps they were mind controlled. The problem is, we do not know the truth."

"We need to warn them, we need to tell them about those shapeshifters running around, could it be… yes, maybe one of those things..."

"Our diplomats are hard at work I am sure," said Picard. His eyes darting across the display, _there is so much here, and even more to be discovered._ _Starfleet has cataloged less than one percent of the total galaxy; it is simply too big for our relatively slow propulsion._ "Data, can you overlay any known probe locations along the same timeline as the spatial disturbances?" Data punched in a few commands, and a few sporadic red dots appeared.

Cienna told the captains she felt confident that the probes are not her masters, and so the long and drawn out analysis continued for their origin and purpose.

"They do seem to have been present, but not in all cases," said Spock, looking up at the giant screen.

"There is no discernible pattern," added Data. The Android and Vulcan continued to overlay a nearly endless array of information, removing some and adding others. Merchant routes, fleet deployments, planet populations, territories, orbit distances, magnetic field density, gravity concentration per sector, and the list went on. The probes seemed to follow no pattern,

 _But perhaps a purpose_ thought the Vulcan.

"It does appear, that these probes care not for any particular instance, they follow no particular path or time," said Spock, now standing beside Kirk, both looking up at the screen, "It does however indicate one thing, that these probes or rather, those who send them wish to learn everything about everything. Their emphasis seems no more towards us than it is to the Cardassians, Romulans, or even the spatial anomalies. They wish to know everything that there is to know. We successfully disabled one, but their distribution pattern may change going forward. I must also point out, we do not know the probes whereabouts throughout the galaxy, only portions of the Alpha Quadrant, a small fraction of the whole."

Data chimed in,

"There is no pattern relative to Dominion ship movements, or diplomatic engagement. In addition, the technology recovered from the disabled probe," nodding towards Kirk, "as well as others pieces recovered throughout Federation territory does not match any known Dominion technology. It is therefore reasonable to conclude they are not of Dominion origin,"

"Where are we getting all the probe coordinates?" asked Picard,

"Fourteen percent through fleet or Federation member world sensors, sixty-seven percent through diplomatic channels, and the remaining nineteen percent through various back channels related to merchants or Starfleet Intelligence."

"So in other words, we are unable to verify if these probes locations are real," said Kirk firmly.

Data's eyes fluttered while analyzing the remark,

"Captain Kirk, are you suggesting that there are errors in data delivery from other Alpha Quadrant inhabitants?"

"No...but there could be factions that are withholding information. There are upwards of one-hundred and fifty thousand probe sightings, thousands more per week. These things are raining down upon us. Nonstop. Someone, somewhere, is going to figure it out. Look in the Gamma Quadrant for instances, eighty thousand sightings, where are we getting _**that**_ information from?"

"Only one percent is provided by Federation ships. We are unable to collect data since the policy change by the Dominion regarding our exploration of their space. We are relying on their sensor logs which Ambassador Weyoun provided."

"I see. Our ships never traveled more than a few hundred light years from the exit, that quadrant is billions of cubic light years...," Kirk trailed off and turned his head to his first officer, "Spock, we need to get into the Gamma Quadrant...we need to investigate. Have Scotty-"

"Captain Kirk," Picard said sternly, "I need a word in private," both men moved towards the corner, "with all due respect, may I remind you that you are eighty years out of place, and your ship needs to be retrofitted. Even if you were given orders to explore the Gamma Quadrant, there is a Dominion blockade in effect. There is no evidence that there is foul play through our diplomatic channels, and these probes can be originating from anywhere in the galaxy. The Gamma Quadrant probe information we recorded is months old. But we obtained new data, provided by the Dominion; you cannot just unilaterally decide they are liars." Picard's face remained stone cold, he did not want to confront Kirk in this manner, but the rumors and legends of the legendary captain's brashness seemed to be true. _He is brash, jumps to conclusions, and if memory serves, finds himself creating political quagmires that usually didn't arise until years later._ Being a student of history, Picard knew the smallest mistake could cause tidal waves years later.

Kirk mulled the speech over, _there is some truth to what he is saying, there is no evidence, just suspicion...but we can't just sit here, we need to act, we need to push,_

"Those shapeshifters could be everywhere, in every city...on every planet,"

"We do not know that. Yes, we need to be careful, yes we need to take precautions, but we cannot jump to conclusions. We do not know if they are connected with what happened on Cardassia." Kirk started to protest but Picard raised his hand to allow himself to continue, "but it is not unreasonable to investigate. I have been promised by both Admiral Ross and Paris that our best people are on this."

"Gentlemen," said Spock interrupting the tension, "I do not mean to eavesdrop, but Captain Picard is correct, we discuss assumptions, not facts. We are missing vast amounts of information, in the Delta and Beta Quadrants for example. However, we also possess enormous amounts of information on other scenarios that are unfolding, and there is much we can do with the current level of information. First and foremost, a moment ago Starfleet Medical announced the DNA samples analyzed from the two dead shapeshifters precisely match those of Odo, the present head of security upon Deep Space 9. It appears, based on records, that the home planet of his species is unknown; therefore their political affiliations are unknown. We are aware of their infiltration, but we do not know why."

"And, this Odo?" Kirk seemed skeptical,

"He passed all Starfleet security requirements, there is no reason to suspect him of any wrongdoing," reported Data before continuing, "I analyzed all possible information available to us. There are currently eight hundred and forty-seven correlated occurrences. Without further information, I cannot differentiate between meaningful correlation and random chance."

Kirk began pacing, considering all the options, assumptions, and priorities. _Not all threats are the same…_ _is everything related? Is Cienna tied to the Shapeshifters? She says not… I believe her._ Turning towards the men, Jim voiced his reasoning aloud.

"You know what Cienna said...those things she calls her masters, they can manipulate time, they can move through dimensions and create weapons that we can't even think of...and those creatures from another dimension that John talks about, what are they? Did they send him to Phobos somehow? From where? Now tell me gentlemen, what are our priorities?"

Spock stood with his hands behind his back, showing no sign of emotion. Accustomed to the irrational thought processes of humans, he often dismissed their wildly dramatic concerns in favor of logic; but even he admitted the priority changed based on what level of assumed risk these 'masters' and undimensioned creatures presented.

 _We can't let our imaginations get the best of us,_ thought Picard before entering into his closing remarks regarding strategy,

"I think we can all agree, that we are in a grave situation, the political climate is rife with unintended consequences, the smallest misstep could push either side over the edge. I think we need to be mindful of the fact, that this situation is fluid. Cienna alluded to far-ranging dangers, but they seem removed from our present situation. There may come a time when our rational will need to shift, and priorities change, but right now our minds must be here in the present. It is not for us to decide on how the Federation uses its resources, we can only help analyze the situation and report our findings." This back and forth continued for several minutes before being interrupted by a communicator, "Picard here,"

Admiral Ross's voice came over the communicator,

"Jean-Luc. You are to depart as soon as possible to Deep Space 9 to meet a delegation from Cardassia and the Dominion. The Klingons will be joining you as well, push your engines to the limit, time is something we do not have, Ross out."

Picard offered a stiff hand to his fellow captain,

"Captain Kirk, let us keep each other informed of whatever truths we can find, we are all in this together, no matter what century we are from," Kirk returned the warm smile and handshake before Picard and Data exited Astrolab 3.

"If I may say, Captain,"

"Oh, I know you would Spock,"

"To craft the correct course of action, with an overwhelming amount of information, we require, even _**more**_ information."

"More?" asked Kirk with a sly grin,

"I am merely stating a fact."

Kirk flipped open his communicator,

"Bones,"

"McCoy here,"

"Get back to the Enterprise; there is work to do."

Spock raised an eyebrow,

"I assume we are leaving orbit?"

"We need another perspective. We need to go visit our old friends, the Metrons."

 **Security Detachment 'B' - Starfleet Command - Earth**

"Listen carefully," barked Worf to the eleven security personnel standing along the edge of a padded mat. "Computer, begin program four." On the mat, eight 'people' of various Alpha Quadrant races shimmered to life, motionless, waiting in a prone position. "Your task is to subdue these computer programs; I have adjusted the parameters myself to make them seem more real. They will resist. I have been authorized to remove the safety protocols, it will be very...difficult." A young ensign raised his hand, "Yes?"

"Sir, are we not to stun them with phasers?" Worf could not hide his smirk,

"No. There will be times that you will not have access to your weapons." The group of rookies inched onto the mat, each eyeing the opponents carefully, one program held a small baton, another a club.

"Computer...begin!"

The programs sprang to life, three rushing the smallest rookie of the class. Ensign Smoon went tumbling to the ground within the first second, with three computer figures piling onto him. Four security personnel moved to assist but got swarmed by kicking and scratching 'Ferengi.' The wildness of the programs caught the rookie class off guard. They were accustomed to well-practiced instructors, harsh but fair sparring sessions, and relatively predictable attacks. This situation felt entirely different; being the first time Worf taught a class at the Academy; and from how things were turning out so far, perhaps the last time.

A loud snap rang out from an elbow joint of one of the programs, dislocated by Lieutenant Cohmun while he attempted to toss the 'Romulan' to the ground. Even though the programs were nothing more than rapidly rearranged molecules, their body mechanics mimicked the real thing - blood, spit, bad breath, dislocations, breaks, saliva, sweat, everything. Worf allowed the insanity to continue for another thirty seconds before halting the exercise. The programs disappeared, and each officer pulled themselves to their feet. Scratches covered more than half the cadet faces, with three receiving bloody noses. Ensign Smoon fared the worst, four of his teeth lay on the mat.

Worf chuckled as he walked among the injured ensigns, looking each of them over from top to bottom.

"Scrapes and bruises... a few injuries. This is what is to be expected on a Starship while fulfilling your security duties."

In the corner of his eye, he noted a civilian sitting in the corner, the person's gaze not breaking contact with the Klingon for even a second. Worf noticed him earlier, but up until this point could not have been bothered, _there is something about him…_ The deadness and blackness of the man's eyes apparent even from across the room. Over the next fifteen minutes and several more drills, Worf found himself locking eyes with the person instead of watching his class. The man's broken face, trampled and reconstructed a thousand times, painted a stark picture. _He is a warrior..._

"Computer, discontinue program," Worf's curiosity peaking, "Can I help you?"

"No…" No elaboration, or small talk, just the exhausted sound of a man long remiss. But the shared gaze did not break, both Klingon and soldier locking eyes. One, a bubbling pool of honor and aggression, the other, endless Doom and insufferable agony.

"Do you have anything to add for this session? You look like you have seen some combat."

Lifeless eyes scanned each cadet,

"Wrong tactics," came the dry reply.

Worf's eyes expanded to the size of saucers. If a stare could kill, Worf would obliterate the man where he sat, but fortunately, a dirty look is all that was delivered. Worf knew the guest to be 'John,' having been briefed on the situation. Starfleet security required 'John' stay in the security wing, not as a prisoner, but as a precaution.

"I can assure you, our tactics are correct," Worf continued to ignore his class; this 'John' stood on the cusp of dishonoring him, _it is_ _ **I**_ _who instruct the class. Their failure is mine!._

"They need to learn to kill..."

"That, is not the Starfleet way," said Worf turning his back on 'John' and returning to his class.

"To kill is to live, to subdue is to die," cautioned 'John,' not backing down.

 _ **Yeeesssss! Teach them! Teach them to kill, teach them new ways to murder!**_

John winced in pain before his neural-regressor temporarily shut the voices out. The assembled rookies could hardly believe it, looking on in amazement, no one had ever spoken to Worf in such a manner.

"Show me," demanded Worf. His blood now boiling; _it's time for this human to be taught a lesson._

'John' pressed against his knees and slowly stood, the weight of a million battles joining him with every step. Showing no fear or concern, he made his way towards the edge of the mat, the shadows along the floor slithering behind.

Worf eyed him from head to toe, looking for signs of weakness or vulnerability, his Klingon instincts on high alert. _He is a warrior…_

"Computer, run program three point one."

'John' cut him off,

"No,"

"So you do not wish to test your theory?" Asked Worf, almost triumphantly.

"The other one, the same as they had."

"That is designed for class combat, do not be foolish!" Worf scoffed and asked a security officer to escort 'John' to another room but stopped his request when the Marine stepped fully onto the mat, his cold gaze unbending, unyielding.

"Class, you are to remain on the sideline. Computer…" Worf's eyes blazed with anger, his every instinct shouting at him to challenge 'John' here and now. _How dare he dishonor me!_ "...program four." The eight holograms once again appeared in the prone position. John raised one of his hands and studied it, flexing and relaxing, feeling every fiber, every muscle.

Insanity, mayhem, all are one in 'John.'

"Computer, begin!"

 **Feel our pleasure! We are in you, with you, part of you.**

The closest program rushed forward but made it no more than a few paces, a fist as hard as iron exploded through the back side of its holographic skull. The 'Romulan' did not have time to hit the ground before 'John' sprang ahead with a vicious attack on the 'human' program which started moving towards him. _**Yeeeeeess! Teach them! Slash and tear!**_ Throats, eyes, ligaments, joints, none were spared. Each torn apart or ripped from their sockets in a sickening display of brutality the likes of which no cadet would ever see again. One rookie rushed off to the corner to vomit, soon to be joined by another; gruesome, being too light a word to describe the unfolding events.

'John' waded through the group effortlessly, a loud, sickening pop coming as an arm detached from a program. __Virtual blood, indistinguishable from the real thing flowed down the soldier's face and neck, none his own, only victims soaking his clothing. _ **Through us you can save her, through the gate, we are limitless, endless, when the time is near, you will know.**_ Eyes as sharp as diamonds spotted his next target,

CRACK!

The skull of the 'Ferengi' caved inward under the tremendous blow, only three remained now. Blood, teeth, appendages, and intestine smeared the blue padded exercise mat. Still, the slaughter continued.

Across the building, Kinnison watched the incredible event through Worf's eyes.

 _This man cannot be human_...

The medical tests showed human DNA and traits, but Kinnison did not believe it. _There must be more._ The Lensman extended his mind into 'John's' expecting to see more of the same, a tortured man, only this time, new visions came. The Lensman convulsed and brought his hand to his mouth. _What in all the heavens..._ If insanity could be described with words it would be printed here. _Is this his mind?..yes..wait...are there others in here?_ His probing thoughts steered downward, down deep into the abyss of consciousness rarely explored, and yet what Kinnison saw he could not comprehend, even his tremendous brain hopelessly floundered in the unknown. What Kinnison did not know, and perhaps would never know is that _**THEY**_ could not be seen by mortals. Even those beings men call gods could not see them, just their influence on humanity could potentially be understood. This is what he saw now, deep in the mind of 'John'... _Shapeless things, what horrible things, in the forest, between the spaces, between things...my...god._ Images flashed past. ... _A small town on Earth_... _Dunwich? 'Mad Arab' Abdul Alhazred…pyramids...the book, the Necronomicon..._ Kinnison recognized some images from Earth's past, hundreds, maybe thousands of years. _But which Earth?_ He could not be sure. He pushed deeper still. _Where are these images coming from?_ Then without warning, they disappeared.

Back in Security Detachment 'B', the last program met its fate. The 'female' Cardassian slumped to the floor, both arms ripped clean off.

"You must have Klingon blood!" bellowed Worf as he rushed forward to engage,

'John's' neck snapped around to focus on his new attacker, blood dripping down his face and the souls of a thousand dead sucking Worf in. Lights flickered and the cadets backed against the walls as a chill descended on each of them. The air cooled, madness came.

"STOP! Computer end program!" shouted Captain Picard who entered the room a moment ago with Data by his side. Worf stopped mid-stride, and 'John' spun around to face them. The programs disappeared, as well as the blood and guts flowing down the mat. "Lieutenant Worf," hissed Picard, "you are to report to the Enterprise immediately, please see Commander Riker in the briefing room. As for your class, I suggest you dismiss them to Medical down the hall." The captain in all his years never saw such carnage, the holographic pile of bodies made his stomach turn even in the brief second he had seen them. Data calculated how this happened; by his estimates, the energy required to inflict such damage should not be possible for a human or Klingon. The team of rookie security guards limped past. Worf stopped in front of Picard.

"Captain, I-"

"You had better be giving me an explanation."

"Aye sir," Worf looked back over his shoulder and waited for 'John' to be escorted out of the room and into another part of the building. "I was instructing the class, and _**he**_ ," indicating with his head, "suggested an alternative technique."

"What I saw, is unacceptable for a Starfleet Officer. We are not trained to slaughter." Worf puffed out his chest and about to protest but then relented,

"Aye, permission to report for duty?"

"Granted."


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Hiccup

 **Milky Way - Galactic Rim**

Frigid cold and utter stillness are the most accurate words to describe the fleet of star destroyers listlessly adrift beyond the galactic rim. Adrift not due to insufficient power, but strategy. Grand Admiral Thrawn made it a priority to remain undetected, to be unknowable to the vast majority of races in the Milky Way. His fleet sat thousands of light years outside the Gamma Quadrant, in intergalactic space; Admiral Piett's fleet maintained a similar posture on the opposite side of the galaxy. Since the destruction of Unimatrix 01, the fleets remained in stealth mode, receiving encrypted probe droid data in an endless stream of information. The Empire enjoyed 79.80% real-time coverage of the galaxy; the remaining being what Thrawn called, the known unknowns. Super advanced races, all seeming to be isolationists which either trapped or destroyed the probes upon real space entry. These super-races, scattered throughout, while mysterious in their methods, are not entirely unknown. Knowledge of them came in other ways to the Imperial data-miners.

Imperial technological advancement continued at breakneck speed; the 'younger' races providing more than sufficient technological leaps. The Empire successfully grafted transporter technology into their ships; there were bugs at first, but engineers continue to work to resolve the issues. Entire teams of scientists, engineers and mechanics poured over the information, all strictly confidential, not to be shared with the systems and industries of the Imperial galaxy. This allowed for greater secrecy and tighter controls. The rebels, or worse, large industrial conglomerates and criminal organizations could not be allowed to get their hands on such precious advancements. Thrawn kept an especially careful eye on the Bounty Hunters the Empire recruited to blend into the new galaxy. Tasked with infiltration and data collection, they blended deep into the societies of the quadrants, government, and civilian life. But what made the Bounty Hunters so capable also created a danger. They could be bought, bribed, or coerced. They work for money, and so every log-in, every report, is scrutinized for slippage, or worse, double-crossing of the mission.

In a large office onboard the Super Star Destroyer Vigilant, the Grand Admiral sat in an oversized chair, flipping through translated scriptures of Kahless, the greatest of long-dead Klingon Warriors. His forty senior commanders seated with him, taking notes and comparing research,

"So you can see, why the Klingons cannot be conquered, only eradicated. Yes perhaps a hundred years ago, when their culture more aligned with nationalism and totalitarianism, they may have entertained surrender under great duress, but no longer. Their governance and culture have changed so drastically; their destruction is the only answer." Thrawn pulled up another translated document, this time from a relatively unknown race in the Gamma Quadrant. "The Utori, a socialist race, managed to withstand the assimilation into the Dominion for over fifty years. Their gravity weapons, still in the early stages of development, have been sufficient to hold back several Dominion campaigns. I have discovered a weakness after reading their religious scriptures, as well as studying what they consider art. The concept of sacrifice for the greater good is not a philosophy they support; it would be possible then to hold their entire race hostage by threatening only a small percentage of it. The Dominion has not been able to take advantage of this."

Admiral Tarcus raised his hand. Participating in dozens of debriefings, he still marveled at the Grand Admiral's ability to fine-tune a weakness.

"What is our strategy for the Utori?"

"I am glad you asked Admiral Tarcus, we will discuss that in due time." His desk beeped and he pressed the switch, "Thrawn here,"

"Grand Admiral, the Founder is here,"

"Send _it_ in."

The office doors hissed open and in walked a small female humanoid. Its orange drab dress nothing but an illusion, not material, but an organic part of the creature. Its flat, featureless face nearly identical to Odo on Deep Space 9. 'She' bowed slightly and then stood silent. The eyes of every officer along with Thrawn, scanned every feature;

 _This 'thing' has bumbled a big operation._

"Madam Founder, so good of you to join us," Thrawn's eyes as cold as ice, his demeanor barely giving away the rage he barely withheld. "You of course know why you are summoned,"

"I do," she murmured. Her lips hardly moved. Looking straight ahead, her soft eyes not revealing the hatred she held for the Empire. The Changelings are a cold, ruthless, and conquering species. The 'Founders' of the Dominion, who enslaved hundreds of species and thousands of worlds, arrogantly believing themselves untouchable. Thrawn enjoyed showing them the foolishness of their belief, their self-made illusion unraveling before their eyes. Thrawn noted their isolation provided the Founders both their greatest strength and weakness. Too isolated to garner protection, the Founders offered a perfect target for blackmail. Not through a long political process, or subtle coercion, but by a display of utter destruction and power.

No one but the Founders knew of the Empire, less the Dominion would fall apart at the seams. Their clone army the Jem'Hadar, thought of them as gods. Their fanatical worship of the Founders built into their DNA, manufactured and adjusted like pieces of equipment. Even the Vorta, who were a species of cloned advisors, often administering campaigns of conquest, remained in the dark. This meeting, being their first face-to-face, alluded to the seriousness of the error committed on Earth. Typically, instructions are transmitted through encrypted holo-nets and converted to subspace for the Founder's receivers. But not this time.

 _They rule through the Vorta's, using them as a proxy. The Founders are defenseless to our blackmail, how convenient. How easy,_ thought Thrawn before he began his line of questioning.

"We want to hear this from you, Founder. Give us an update regarding the situation on Earth. Have you determined how your fellow Changelings were discovered?"

When news broke of the Changeling discover upon earth, Thrawn nearly killed the hapless messenger. For the last three weeks, all available information flowed through banks of analysis computers and intelligence officers. Bounty Hunters and Changelings who took up positions on Earth and other Federation worlds ramped up their espionage activity, desperate to find an answer.

"No... I am afraid not."

Frustrated, Thrawn stood up, one hand locked behind his back, the other on his belt buckle,

 _How could this have happened?_

"Do you understand the enormity of this security breach?" The Founder said nothing. "Allow me to elaborate. You assured us, that no Changeling had ever been discovered, that no member of the Federation could read your thoughts. That no technology currently deployed could detect you without a direct scan."

"Yes, correct Grand Admiral," replied the Founder, still looking straight forward,

"The picture is admittedly incomplete, even now after several weeks. What concerns me, and should concern you, is either your operatives made mistakes, or there is technology, currently deployed that can track you. We do not believe it was a Betazoid, or at least not primarily a Betazoid or telepath. Your people have been operating on Betazed for months, disguised as Ferengi, whose minds cannot be read. What may have occurred, is an unknown piece of technology could have caused your people to reveal themselves,"

"Why then, is this technology not dispatched across the Federation, or on their starships? We have hundreds of operatives on their ships and planets." The Founder's genuine perplexed look seemed to calm Thrawn,

 _Valid points, at least they are taking this seriously…_

"This leads me to our other theory, that your operatives made mistakes, revealing themselves by accident. In either case, our relationship seems to remain confidential, as your people's minds cannot be read by any member of the Federation. This unfortunate turn of events revealed your presence within their society, this cannot be undone. Our plans will need to be accelerated. Tell your Vorta representative he is to continue to blame the Federation for the attack on Cardassia Prime, and that the blockade will continue."

"Grand Admiral, as we have already communicated with you, Starfleet is considering challenging the blockade with the 4th Fleet," said the Founder.

Thrawn flicked a piece of fine dust off his impeccably-kept white uniform,

"Yes, we are aware of this, we intercepted communications with our probe droids. Have your team on Cardassia carry out our orders, and lastly, and I only say this as a reminder. We already killed millions of your people. You tried to flee, to colonize another planet, hidden within a nebula...only to lose millions more. You do not know who we are, or where we are from... and you never will. We promised you complete control. The Alpha Quadrant will be yours, but it must be done our way. Do not fail me, or the rest of your kind will perish." The Founder turned and left, escorted out of the room by a pair of stormtroopers, and sent back to her home planet twenty-thousand light years away.

Thrawn encouraged discussion among his command staff, few things being off limits. In his experience, to cultivate an environment of problem-solving and critical analysis, an open debate took precedent over group-think. This boost in resolve and willingness to contribute helped tremendously in his campaign. With billions of planets and millions of species to analyze and track, he could only look at so many items per day. He relied heavily on analysts to bring important matters to his desk.

"Grand Admiral, the latest report regarding the gravity anomalies is ready for your review," a young Captain stepped forward and handed over a datapad. Thrawn sat silent, his eyes reading each line, every detail being absorbed and considered.

"A pattern has not yet emerged, increase probe droid coverage by twenty percent, send instructions to Kuat Drive Yards on the next wormhole opening." Communication between the Imperial Galaxy and Milky Way became possible only when a ship made the journey. The current Imperial theory suggested the wormhole not only linked space, but also time and even realities. The gravity anomalies in the Milky Way seemed related, but without further information, nothing could be sure.

Unanswered questions gnawed at Thrawn's inquisitive mind,

"Have we established with certainty that nothing exited the anomaly in the Beta Quadrant several months ago? Our probes discovered debris from Borg cubes in the immediate area. It is strange that out of five such spatial patterns, only three produced a visitor. Are we certain that nothing exited in the Betazoid space?" Thrawn scanned the briefing document, "... a time traveling ship in Federation space..." he placed the datapad down and looked over at his assistant, "...is this accurate?"

"This is what our contacts are telling us…"

 _Perhaps something, perhaps nothing, but I have an entire Galaxy to conquer, each item in due time..._

"If I may remind the Grand Admiral," said a commander hesitantly, "...that we also lost four probe droids in the Beta Quadrant during the gravity anomaly... our probes didn't have enough time to fully detail the event."

Thrawn nodded along, both listening and reading simultaneously.

"Lets keep at it, knowledge is power. And right now gentlemen, we know more than anyone in the galaxy. Even the species which evade our probes sit in isolation, not able to grasp the full scale of information we control. We must use it to execute our plans, precisely, and without error.

A newly assigned Lieutenant began to clap, but quickly coughed and lowered his head in embarrassment. Thrawn smiled before allowing the Vigilant's captain to address the meeting.

"Admiral Piett conducted one hundred and eighty raids on Borg planets and industrial bases. We believe the Borg will be completely defeated within five years." Captain Needa beamed with pride, anything not human insulted his senses, he despised the Borg more than any other.

"I share this view Captain Needa. We must be certain they cannot reverse-engineer our technology in any meaningful way. We will maintain alert status, every Borg facility must be sought out and destroyed."

"Grand Admiral, what are the chances that our Bounty Hunters have been compromised? Contact losses now total forty-six," asked an analyst.

"We are working hard to ensure that is not the case. Bear in mind, this galaxy is not connected, few races share information, or have ever communicated with one another. It is impossible for a compromised Bounty Hunter in the Beta Quadrant to influence races in the Delta or Gamma or Alpha Quadrants. The Mylene system has been purged of life has it not?"

"Yes sir, one hundred percent," reported Needa.

"You see then gentlemen, upon our agent's capture by the pesky Mylene peoples, we purged all who knew of us from the galaxy. No one will ever know, and that race, isolated in the Beta Quadrant revealed no secrets. As for the Bounty Hunters who could not resist the temptation of the illegal trades in this galaxy, by the command of the Emperor, they are being dealt with, permanently,"

"How sir?"

"Lord Maul and Boba Fett are currently tracking those who abandon us, no one can resist the Empire."

 **Milky Way - Section 31 - Secret Bakerfield Facility**

Sloan tilted his head back and gulped back the last droplets of black coffee, his third cup in the previous hour. Having spent four weeks on an unregistered merchant craft making his way to the secret facility on the edge of Federation space, he felt drained. Constant updates regarding the Changelings had kept him busy, but the continual analysis and paranoia took its toll.

 _Technology to detect them on a large scale is nowhere near ready._ _We need a live sample for testing._ Only one known source, Odo, aboard Deep Space 9 could provide such a sample.

The Cardassian situation deteriorated daily, with whispers of a budding Dominion/Cardassian alliance. His spies indicated high-level meetings are taking place on a weekly basis.

 _War is coming..._

Currently he sat outside a secure cell, a humming force-field ensuring his safety. Other Section 31 officers, all armed with heavy phaser rifles, stood nearby. Questions had been debated and discussed among them since the U.S.S. Douglas recovered it.

 _How much do we allow this_ _ **thing**_ _to interact with Starfleet systems? What promises are real? Is anything it said possible_? _Can it help us against our enemies, the Dominion and Borg?_ Sloan wrestled with these questions endlessly, finding it difficult to decide what risk to take, _risk and reward...risk and reward..._

 _Cienna's debriefing to Starfleet makes it clear. This blob of tentacles with a single eye is indeed a Dalek._

Rescued by the U.S.S. Douglas, the blob claimed it's shell had been destroyed along with its ship, only a miracle kept it alive in a stasis pod. Sloan maintained regular communication with Cienna through subspace, careful not to reveal his true intentions. But he needed enough information to assess the dangers. As he gathered general knowledge of the Dalek's capabilities, he perceived the vastness and incredible power of the reward. Technology completely unfathomable now inches from their fingertips.

 _We are more than prepared for any scenario._

For several weeks a new question bounced off the four walls of the Bakerfield facility. Is the Dalek dying? Its mutated body seemingly unable to survive, leaving little choice in the eyes of Sloan but to restore the mechanical suit. There had been some close calls, more than once the brain functions of the blob disappeared, only to be revived with neural-agitators.

"We are ready to begin, lower the field," ordered Sloan. Two men carrying a power generator placed it beside the three thousand kilograms of various alloys that had already been brought into the brig. The slimy bulk, resting at the bottom of a destroyed armored case, squirmed and wriggled in anticipation. The men exited, the force-field snapping back into place. All phaser rifles were set on maximum power and pointed squarely at the Dalek.

 _Today we save a Dalek, tomorrow we prepare for the Dominion._

" _ **See now! Your friend is reborn!"**_ it shrieked.

For months, its responses to questions seemed vague, only boasting about helping them when it realized it's true identity was revealed. Section 31, Sloan included, felt confident they understood the risks and planned on keeping it alive until they deemed it necessary to eliminate it.

 _We need it to help track the probes, to scan the Gamma Quadrant, perhaps anti-Borg weapons...maybe even detect Changelings…_

The decision to use the Dalek in this fashion did not rest on Sloan alone, Council Member's familiar with Section 31 also weighed in on the situation. Informing him that Starfleet seemed to be behind the information curve, and too many Council questions had too few answers. The plan negotiated with the Dalek would upgrade Federation weapons, sensors, and propulsion, enabling them to win the upcoming war against the Dominion. Sloan and company planned on enslaving the alien monstrosity, forcing even greater concessions of technology. Then, finally, when its knowledge is exhausted... killed.

Inside the brig, a hum could be heard as the power generator activated and vast arcs of electricity jumped into the destroyed Dalek armored capsule. All witnesses held their hands high to shield their eyes, as alloys melted and crept along the floor, interlacing into the damaged mechanisms. After more than a minute the blinding light dimmed and visibility returned, in front of the officers rested the repaired armor, the mutant blob encased once again. All mechanisms and angles glistened in their pristine shape, it's eyestock glowing blue with deadly intent.

"Dalek, can you hear me?" Sloan stood on edge, his men equally stressed. Across from them, still behind the security field could be the oddest species any of them would ever meet. The brain, now encased in gold armor, shaped like a pepper shaker and donning a plunger-like mechanism as well as an extruding rod. The eyestock swiveled back and forth, looking at each man,

"AFFIRMATIVE! What are your orders? _ **"**_

"You are to instruct us on how to upgrade our sensor grids,"

"Have your soldier access the telemetry beacon for your nearest sensor network."

The Dalek had been allowed to study specific Federation technologies within its cell; Sloan certain that this posed no security threat. At any moment the alien could be vaporized, or discharged into space and then targeted. The small risk deemed worth it by Section 31, needing to see what enhancements were possible. An agent walked over to a panel and typed in a few commands,

"Ready,"

" _ **Input the configuration matrix that I have provided you."**_ After several long minutes, the sensor feedback flickered and new objects now prominently displayed in their sensor sweeps. Probes moving in hyperspace perfectly visible, as well as all cloaked Romulan and Klingon ships along the border. Another flicker and it was gone.

"We have lost the signal,"

" _ **What are your orders now?"**_

Sloan walked over to the display, everything read normal, the enhanced detection ability gone.

"Your program matrix did not work," shouted Sloan hotly,

" _ **I-N-C-O-R-R-E-C-T, your inferior computer core cannot process the information, it lacks sufficient power."**_

Sloan eyed the Dalek carefully, _the sensor upgrade did work... temporarily… cloaked ships..probe…_

"What do you advise?"

" _ **Does this installation have a sub-space sensor grid?"**_

"Yes."

" _ **Instruct your peon to tie-in all available power, including reactors of any ships docked or stationed nearby."**_

Sloan hesitated before stepping into another room flanked by two of his advisors. The others remained on guard, phaser rifles at their sides.

"The code matrix partially worked, the Dalek upgrade is compatible with our systems. The possibility of significantly enhancing our sensor-suite is possible," commented an advisor.

Now though, it asked them to complete patchwork in an odd configuration. Sloan looked over the details; _I still see no perceivable threat._ _If this thing goes off the rails, we'll vaporize it..._

After more than six hours of deliberations with Earth engineers on critical processes, the power configuration signaled ready. The reactor of the merchant's vessel along with all the systems of Bakerfield, now rerouted to the subspace detection grid.

"Morrison, on my mark," Sloan held his finger in the air, the room dancing on needles from the tension, "3...2...1-" the countdown never finished. Before the switch could be thrown, the lights flickered, "Report?!"

" _ **Witness now the true power of the Daleks!"**_

Unknown to the Section 31 operatives, their prisoner effortlessly hacked the Bakerfield systems moments after it's restored armor came online. Firewalls designed to stop computer-based intrusion presented no barrier to the highly-intelligent menace. Bypassing security protocols in milliseconds, Federation A.I., created to destroy foreign computer-agents now served a new master.

Brilliant streams of energy flowed from the force-field directly into the Dalek, the armor absorbing every joule.

"Open fire! Kill it!" Screamed Sloan while grabbing a spare phaser off the table. In unison, all phaser rifles discharged, dazzling the Dalek in orange and red beams. Like a blossoming fireball, the phaser energies reflected outward, the brig turning into an inferno.

But. The Dalek's systems now operated at full power.

" _ **You are to serve ME!"**_ The weapon nozzle of the Dalek swiveled and white energy swept the room. Every officer convulsed and dropped to the floor, their motor-controlling neurons wholly scrambled. Like fish out of water, the Section 31 operatives floundered about, spasming uncontrollably on their backs and stomachs.

" _ **Designate the least important!"**_

Sloan fought to control his muscles, his mind reeling at the thought of his failure.

 _How?! This… this is impossible! … I might reach the controls… need to warn Earth…_

Worming left and then right, the Director struggled to inch his way towards the communications station. Behind him, preoccupied with another task, the Dalek floated towards Sergeant Morrison, twitching in a vegetative state.

After several seconds the Dalek lowered the plunger arm and extended it slowly around the man's head. Unable to resist, Morrison's screams brought no rescue as his skull cracked like an egg. Releasing its grip, Morrison's lifeless body remained still. No longer recognizable, his body appearing robbed of all nutrients and life-force.

" _ **His mind reveals many things not stored in your computer systems. There is information that I require! Commander William Riker is to be captured!"**_

Sloan managed to fight for control of his left arm, fingertips outstretched on the console above his head, desperately searching for the rectangular button he knew so well.

Success. With his last ounce of strength, he jammed his fingers down and sent the signal.

Screens throughout Bakerfield rapidly displayed information files, appearing and disappearing as fast as possible. Sloan twisted his head around,

 _It's downloading everything from Earth, the entire Federation database… oh my god..._

Ominously, the Dalek turned its attention to Sloan, floating without rush or worry towards the fledgling Director. Helpless.

Now the replicators came to life, all buzzing and whirring with instructions and energy, manufacturing impossibly small machines to be implanted into the minds of the men. Soon, they would unknowingly carry out Dalek orders they believed to be their own free will.

"You are dead!" shouted Sloan, his speech slurred by his uncooperative tongue. "Starfleet will destroy this station!"

"You are I-N-F-E-R-I-ORRRRR! No such signal left this station. Your computer systems are compromised. _**You will SUFFER! You are to be my slaves!"**_ Another beam of energy blasted the room. Flesh and bone bubbled and boiled, only for the men to be restored and the process repeated.

In the stillness and quietness of space, the screams of a thousand deaths fell on empty ears.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Prelude to Which War

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Deep Space 9 - Conference Room**

An assortment of representatives from the Federation, Dominion, Cardassian, and Klingon Empires filled the room. If a better word to describe the proceedings existed it would be used, but for now, a 'mess' will suffice. Klingons, never ones to mince words, lacked the ability to conduct diplomacy. Picard and Benjamin Sisko, Captain of DS9 struggled to keep General Martok from blowing a gasket every few minutes.

"Captain Picard, this proves nothing," said Gul Dukat tossing the datapad back onto the table. The Cardassian leader stood up and began to pace the conference room, grinding his jaw in frustration. Thirty-minutes into the meeting may as well have been thirty-hours. _Complete nonsense._ Dukat 'knew', his intelligence chiefs 'knew'. The bomb planted in the Detapa Council on his home planet was set by humans, not Changelings. "Jean-Luc, you are trying to tell me shapeshifters may have done it; yet you even have one of those things working for you right now, on this station!"

Sisko's own temper began to flare, hotly contesting the Cardassian argument,

"Dukat, how many times have we told you, Odo is not involved with this. You even appointed him head of security when the Cardassians occupied this station. You know, as well as I do, that he is innocent."

Picard raised his hand to quell the tension,

"Gentlemen, I think we are straying from the point."

"Which is?" Countered Dukat, hotly.

"Which is… that your people were attacked. An attack, orchestrated by Starfleet has no benefit to the Federation. Even if your accusations held some truth, for what purpose did this serve? Why would Starfleet want a war after the Borg incursion just a few years ago?"

Dukat stopped pacing and considered this for a long moment.

 _That is true, they would not want a war..._

"There is another explanation of course." smiled Weyoun with a slight tilt of his head. The deceptively timid Vorta spoke softly, perfectly engineered to represent the Dominion in all diplomatic matters. "We believe the device was planted to frame the Colonists; it is, after all, the only explanation." Sisko raised his head and let out a laugh; even Picard could not maintain his stoic expression.

Throughout the meeting, the Dominion representatives adamantly accused the Federation of framing the Colonists. They argued the attack was an attempt to draw the Cardassians into the demilitarized zone to wipe out the Colonist, thus invoking a Federation response. "You laugh now, of course, but, what is that human expression?" Weyoun thought a moment, "...ah yes, hubris."

Picard shifted his gaze,

"What do you mean?"

"You thought you were so smart, believing your plan foolproof, only to see it fail. You did not anticipate our diplomatic party being in the Detapa Council building. Perhaps you are not even aware that the attack is yours, it is... well beyond… what is the Earthly expression… your pay grade."

"Do you want a war Weyoun? Is that it?" Sisko's fist slammed into the shiny table. "It sounds to me like you want a war." Sisko then turned his attention to Dukat, whom he maintained a working relationship with. "Dukat, this makes no sense. Why? Why is this happening? What advantage do we get from this? It benefits no one!"

Gul Dukat remained quiet, thinking everything over. As harsh as a Cardassian could be, they still cared and loved their young.

 _I do not want more death. War is always the last option,_ _but is it necessary at this moment? As leader of Cardassia, can I do nothing and still maintain power? The people expect action._

"Ben, Jean-Luc…" began Dukat, crafting his words to convey the most meaning to the two humans. "Do you know how many children played in the daycare at the council building? These people did have kids, and if you know anything about Cardassians, then you will know they had many." Neither man responded, surprised by the change in tone. "Nine hundred and four, all dead."

Martok began shaking his head and rolling his eyes, his ability to cope with nuance pushed to the limit,

"Killing children is not an honorable way to wage battle, but I do not like this talk of treachery. The Klingon Empire requests access to your data, we want to be sure who is responsible,"

"We already know who is responsible," voiced Weyoun, gently.

"You little insect! We lost some fine warriors as well!" Martok jumped to his feet, startling Weyoun.

Picard grabbed the arm of Martok and gently coaxed him back into his chair,

"Gul Dukat. Weyoun. What is it that you want from us? We have provided you with all the evidence necessary for you to return to your respective governments to analyze. We laid out the reasons in which it would be disadvantageous for us to target you. We do not want a war, we do not want any bloodshed. But, we are prepared to defend ourselves and our beliefs. However, we will do everything possible so it does not come to that."

"Picard, it amazes me that you can grandstand after killing-" Weyoun eyed a flurry of activity from the Klingon delegation. A lowly lieutenant pushed his way forward to whisper in General Martok's ear.

Everyone in the room waited, watching with interest as the General's demeanor changed from confusion to anger.

"What?!"

The young Klingon jumped but continued to relay information into the ear of the General.

After several seconds, Dukat could not help but ask,

"Is everything ok?"

"No! It is not! One of our observation-outposts was boarded and overrun. Forty Klingon warriors have been killed. Cardassian __blood stains their blades."

 **DS9 Quark's Bar**

Commander Riker sat comfortably on a barstool, sipping a cool drink and keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. Captain Picard thought it best for him to try and sniff out among the traders that frequented Quark's bar any rumors about the Dominion or the Cardassian bombing. Unsurprisingly busy, species utterly unfamiliar to Starfleet spent their time gambling, drinking, talking, arguing, renting holosuites, and occasionally getting into trouble. In essence, acting like traders and gunrunners.

"Commander. I'm so busy I just hired three people just to maintain the holosuites. I'm charging a premium now, it's wonderful," said Quark as he fixed a drink for another patron. "Last time you visited, I'd be lucky to have five customers at once, now, we are taking reservations."

"Doing something different?"

"Wish I could say it is something I did, but truthfully it's just the merchants and traders. Activity really picked up in the last five to six weeks. There are so many ships coming through the station docks that Sisko requested more personnel just to track the different species that are arriving from the Gamma Quadrant. Their blockade is only stopping your ships after all. Merchants come and go by the minute."

Riker smiled and looked around the room, eyeing the diverse crowd, some species familiar, most not. All loose-of-mouth and drinking heavily, socializing, and playing games at the tables. He did notice however, a stark contrast in demeanor between what he perceived to be successful material-traders, and those whom he suspected of being gun runners and contract-merchants. The latter appeared more recluse, tucked neatly away into their booths and holosuite waiting rooms. Their stern faces conveyed tension, still able to enjoy themselves but not as boisterous as the rest.

"Quark, who is that big Romulan over there? The one with the women?" In a booth not too far off sat the fattest Romulan Riker ever laid eyes on. At least four-hundred pounds with a head the size of a watermelon, the bulky and sweaty Romulan wore an open shirt with some sort of jewelry around his neck. Tattoos slid up his neck and down his arms, crawling and searching for any uncovered skin. Many inked before he gained weight, they stretched in certain places, and folded into fat increases in others. On either side sat two women, one green, another purple, playfully giggling and cooing to please him.

"Oh, that's Teemar, he's a trader, always brings women with him."

"What's his story?"

"Big tipper, always rents out my holosuites. I think he trades Dioplaxican, or mines it, one or the other. Why?"

"Never seen a Romulan who could be chopped into three smaller ones," said Riker with a big smile. Quark let out a laugh and leaned in closer to share his next remark,

"You know, I know a guy who can get you in on some Dioplaxican."

"Why would anyone want it?."

"I hear they are making new Warbirds out of it."

"Out of Dioplaxican?" Riker seemed skeptical, from what he knew of the substance, the refining process took time and replication tricky at best. _A strange choice for shipbuilding… strong as hell, but hard to mold… illegal in most territories due to its high level of toxicity during refinement…_

"Don't ask where he gets it...their private enterprise is trying to-"

Riker cut off Quark,

"Private enterprise? Since when do the Romulans have private enterprise? Everything goes through the state."

"Hey, I'm just the messenger,"

"A messenger with a wrong message?"

Riker frowned, realizing the Ferrengi routinely passed on gossip and gulped down the rest of his drink. He was half-off his stool, when a stunning woman sat beside him on the other stool. Conveniently pretending to adjust his uniform, Riker coolly slipped back onto his seat.

 _She looks like a mix between a human and a jungle cat...wow_

She purred softly as her tail coiled around the stool leg, her hands deceptively delicate; for beneath the finely groomed fur rested deadly claws, beautiful and equally deadly.

"What brings you here?" he asked with a big soft smile, charm pushed to top pedigree

Her ears flickered and she turned her sweet, but devilish face towards him. Her eyes like a house cat's, and behind her beautiful smile, a pair of perfect white fangs,

"To spend some money," she purred,

"Oh, and what are you looking to purchase?"

"A few planets," she said with a wink. Riker couldn't hide the incredulous look spreading across his face, _what?_ He signaled Quark for another round and offered to pay for the ladies before continuing his conversation.

"Never heard of someone buying an entire planet,"

"Well not a big one, maybe even a giant asteroid," her infectious smile causing Riker to blush and turn away to stroke his beard.

"What do you need a planet for?"

"To mine, business is booming."

"So I've heard,"

"I don't expect you to understand. Starfleet-socialists would not agree with my ideas."

"Commander William Riker, a pleasure to meet you…?"

"Pleased to meet you," she said without mentioning her own name.

"So, you have enough gold-pressed-latinum to buy a planet?" They continued their back and forth for some time, eventually the alcohol took hold and a more limber dialogue unfolded.

"Ever heard of Utori, William? What a place, changing quick..."

"No, should I have?"

Eager to share her story, the minx leaned in, the alcohol causing her eyes to glaze ever so slightly,

"On Utori, a new political party forced a second world currency, which caused havoc. I took advantage of it, long story short, the new party hired me to destabilize the old one...anyway, boring stuff. The Utori are socialists just like you, they practically begged me to halt the trade of their currency."

Riker thought for a few moments. _Must have been one hell of a scheme to rake in that much_ _money_

"So what are you mining? Why not just run off and retire?"

"Retire? Please. Do you know how many contracts there are right now, for all sorts of things. You can make a fortune. As for what I'm doing, that is a secret,"

"Is your name also a secret?"

"No, that can be earned, Starfleet," the lioness smirking at her slight towards the Commander

"What do I-"

Shouts rang out from a table behind, interrupting their conversation.

"That is _**our**_ seat you Romulan worm, move, now!" All activity in Quark's establishment immediately ceased, no one moved a muscle. A group of drunk Klingons loomed over a pair of Romulans seated at a table. Eyes as hard as diamonds scanned the room, not the eyes of the Klingons, but of the traders, merchants, scoundrels, and space-pirates within Quark's establishment. The two rugged looking Romulans stood slowly, and as they stood they seemed to grow, not physically but in stature.

"Or what? What are you going to do Klingon?" Their voices full of seething-loathsomeness. "Are you going to show us what sort of _Warrior_ you are," they spat, mockingly.

The Klingon psyche did not tolerate insults, any dishonor brought quick reprisal. Each warrior lunged forward, bodies, table and chairs knocked to the ground. Riker jumped off his stool and rushed forward to try and calm the mayhem. More Klingons joined the fray, and soon, the Romulans fought at five to one disadvantage, but, to the surprise of the Klingons, the Romulans fought like wild animals. Clawing, biting, scratching, gouging, chewing, punching, kicking. Anything and everything to fight off the larger group. A wild-blow struck a Klingon's temple, killing him instantly.

"Stop this! Stop fighting!" Shouted Riker at the top of his lungs, his demands unable to stop the mayhem.

A wild blow toppled the Commander to the ground as a group of ruffians rallied to the Romulan cause. After several minutes, Odo and two dozen security personnel rushed through the doors and waded into the frenzie of kicks and punches. Half of the establishment guests scrambled for safety, through exit doors or under tables. Some lucky enough to own self-teleportation devices, beamed away to their docked ships. The rest stayed, locked in a life and death struggle with the drunken Klingons. A sort of insanity overcame the room, restricted weapons, hidden within boots, hats, and garments, stabbed, swatted, and bludgeoned everyone and anything. Odo shouted and hurried his men into position, never in his life seeing such carnage breakout in his station. Dead Klingons lay about, the rest fighting desperately for breathing room as the sea of henchmen and down-and-outs surrounded them. Some traders and merchants turned on the security personnel; attacking as a single unit, all different, but united in their cause.

Disdain of authority, rules, and law.

Each felt they were given a bad break in life. Cast out, ridiculed, mocked, deprived, and desperate. Finding solace alone in the stars, as a trader, merchant, prostitute or gun-runner, they threw themselves into the fray. While many did not like one another, they hated authority even more.

Not taking any drastic actions, Teemar the four-hundred pound Romulan, eyed the fray and eruption of violence. His steely eyes looking over possible dangers and opponents. The women he frequented retreating to the edge of the booth, too scared to move or flee.

"Easy ladies, easy. You belong to me, and what I own, I care for," and with a simple command into his communicator, both women teleported away and onto his waiting freighter. He then wedged himself out of the tight booth, the glasses rattling and table legs squeaking as his bulk slipped past.

A compatriot, currently rolling along the floor with a female DS9 security officer screamed for help when he noticed Teemar preparing to leave. The giant Romulan looked over casually, the mountain of muscle hidden by blubber, rolling and shifting with his huge frame. He stalked towards his target, the sea of merchants parting to make way. Black boots as heavy as bricks came down beside the head of the young female ensign no older than twenty. Reaching down, Teemar hoisted the young woman off his own man, sneering with arrogance and contempt. She dangled several feet off the ground, held at bay by the sturdy and unshakable arm of Teemar, his hand crushing her throat.

"Young human, you have chosen the wrong side. You, like many others, belong to the past where socialism runs rampant. No creativity, no eagerness, no drive. Stagnant." The young woman fought against the vice-like grip of the Romulan, trying to pull against the fingers wrapped around her throat. "Don't take this personally, I only do this to spare you the indignity of living such a pathetic life." As he squeezed, her face began to turn red, then purple, his strength unmatched by her slender build. "Pity. You could be so pretty, perhaps I could take you back with me," he brought her closer, the ensigns feet still dangling several feet from the ground. "You can become my toy and entertainment… like others who look like you." His eyes then changed, from curiosity to anger, hardening at the thought of the socialist sickness running through her mind. "But not today."

Teemar sunk a fist into the ensign's stomach, rattling her ancestors. Bones splintered and organs burst. One massive strike did it. The rookie security officer on her first assignment, collapsed to the ground, dead. "Time to go." And with that, both he and his associate whirled away in a transporter beam.

On the other side of the establishment, Riker unloaded another right-cross, the last he could muster given his mounting injuries. He collapsed to one knee, the wound he suffered in his stomach soaking his shirt with blood. To his right, the minx sunk her fangs into the last Klingon, taking a huge chunk out of the warrior's neck, ending his fight for good.

Total carnage.

Bones, throats, ribs, all crushed and pummeled throughout the bar. Odo, quick to realize the danger, knew his officers to be hopelessly outmatched. While highly trained, they could not keep-up under the onslaught. With reluctance, Odo pulled his phaser and set it to wide-beam stun, and fired. Half the room instantly dropped. The remaining hooligans eventually retreating via personal teleporter.

Riker struggled to his feet. Broken glass littered the floor and bar-top. An unbelievable sight lay before him. Blood flowed like a river along the floor, bodies lay on top of one another, and in the middle stood Odo, phaser in hand.

"Commander, are you ok?"

"Yes, just a few scratches,"

Quark pulled himself up over the bar-top,

"I'm all right,"

Odo ignored him. Minutes later medical personnel began to treat the wounded and stabilize the dying.

Riker limped across the room,

"What's going on? This ever happen before? They fought like dogs, with nothing to lose..."

"It's getting worse. For a month or two, more and more traders are coming in. I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner. They all hate authority, all out to make it rich and maybe more..." reflected Odo.

Riker's communicator beeped and he excused himself,

"Riker here,"

"Will, report to the Enterprise immediately," ordered Picard.

"Trouble?"

"The Klingons have just declared war on the Cardassians. We are to rendezvous with the 4th fleet immediately,"

"Understood." Riker moved out into the promenade and approached a group of Starfleet security officers who looked to be waiting for him. "Fastest way to transporter room two?" he asked quickly,

"We will lead you there sir."

Through corridors, hallways and turbo lifts, they moved quickly until they reached a door,

"In here? That doesn't say transporter room. What the hell is going on?" Riker spun around to confront the lead officer only to realize a phaser now pointed at him,

"Inside, now."

As Riker stepped through the door a hypo-spray shot into his neck from a waiting Section 31 operative. The Commander convulsed and dropped to the floor face down, his nose broken and blood pooling in his mouth. Barely conscious and slipping fast, the room wobbled and spun, the toxins going to work on his nervous system and brain function. A half-dozen operatives stood inside the room, one holding a large piece of equipment that resembled a suction cup.

"Easy, easy, now...place it on his skull," said one of them. The suction cup lowered and slowly tightened, a loud crunch followed. Within a few seconds, the dead, lifeless, fruitless body of William Riker lay on the floor. His mind absorbed and uploaded into the transference-machine.

"Send mind-data to master, ensure to encrypt it as instructed, then set for self-destruct."

Each of the men exited the room, leaving the machine beside the mummified body. Then, with a silent uneventful flicker, both dissolved to their subatomic molecules, never to exist again.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Back Against the Wall

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Metron Planetoid**

Captain Kirk stood in the bright sunlight at the base of a shallow valley. The desolate, barren planetoid the exact one he visited years ago when fighting the Gorn. Nothing natural grew, at least, he believed it not to be. Like before, the Metrons prepared a small planet in their solar system for humanoid life. With him, Cienna and 'John' stood looking around at the sparse plantation and non-existent animal life. It reminded Kirk of the canyons and old rock formations of Arizona he visited once as a child.

Far above, the Enterprise waited beyond the solar system, locked into place with an invisible projection of energy. Like before, the Metrons agreed to transport Kirk and his friends to the surface, leaving the crew to wait and watch. Only this time, they could not seem to transport 'John', instead allowing the captain to take a shuttlecraft.

Now a pale, thin, boyish-looking human appeared on the ridge. Resembling a young Greek Senator from Earth's past, its white robe drifted gently in the breeze.

"Captain Kirk," its voice echoed, "We did not expect to see you again."

"Thank you for allowing me to return, and, thank you...for allowing my friends to come," replied Kirk, disjointedly.

"We see you are now in the wrong timeline, you do not belong here."

"Yes, that is why we have come, to seek answers," Kirk made a hand gesture towards himself and his two friends. Hoping the Metrons held answers to questions plaguing the Federation and himself. Not through luck, happenstance, or random chance, Kirk impressed the Metrons years ago by defeating the Gorn and sparing its life.

"Captain Kirk, you allowed us to witness the finer qualities of a stable, more evolved thought processes. What is it that you want us to answer." The slim, humanoid Metron offered its hands in a gesture of goodwill. they thought highly of Kirk, surprising them so many years ago.

"I...we... have all been transported here; somehow, we've been pushed through time and dimension. Our science cannot provide an answer." A long silence ensued, the Metron remaining visible, but seemingly elsewhere in its thoughts.

"We can address your questions."

"How did this happen?"

"A space-time explosion of unknown origin spread between Universes; the ripple effect created micro-fissures across multiple dimensions. You being here is merely a coincidence, your ship obviously caught in the turbulence, your companions, likewise. It is possible that other micro-fissures appeared within this universe, our sensors are advanced but not infinite. The space-time explosion's exact coordinate in the multiverse is unknown. We cannot see that far."

Cienna stepped forward hesitantly, her beautiful hair tightly wound, her silky white dress flapping gently in the breeze.

"The Dalek's created a Time Destroyer, a temporal weapon used against their enemies the Time Lords. Where I am from, a time war ravaged the universe. When the weapon detonated, my master's ship was on route to Mars when we were hit by a temporal-time-shockwave."

"If the Dalek's survived, there is a grave danger to all mortal races in the universe." replied the Metron. Even with their advanced sensors, the Metrons had not detected the broken hulk of the Dalek deep inside the gravitational forces of the half-nova so many hundreds of light years away.

"I shared all this with Starfleet-"

"Unlike your captain, we fear the humans will be concerned not with the long-term, or abstract, but with their immediate needs. Do not assume your warnings are heeded. The weapons you speak of are so vast compared to the rudimentary technology of humanity; they could not fathom or grasp their context or consequence. We the Metrons have moved beyond politics, and so we can view it as weakness, the short sightedness of greed, desire, inner conflict."

"Metron," continued Cienna, trying to stay on point. "You have undoubtedly analyzed the plan that the Dalek's envisioned for 'John' in the Enterprise's computer. What is your opinion of it? The Dalek's told me a gate could open if a human recited spells from a book. They built me, molded me, engineered my body to best suit-"

"This is where our intelligence surpasses yours, where we can see the clear path. We have traveled to many places, but words do not guide us. It is not spells or magic but technology that brings beings like ourselves to and fro. Often, superior beings use familiar or superstitious concepts to trick and fool younger beings. For I, here now before you, am not human from your ancient Earth. I simply appear this way for your limited brains to absorb and understand the knowledge we convey to you."

Cienna shook her head in frustration, trying to remain calm and respectful.

 _The Metrons are taking the Dalek's seriously, but not the book, not the things that were to help them defeat the Time Lords._

Kirk could not help but admire Cienna. As intelligent as Spock, but conveyed in a much different way. Full of emotion and empathy, yet logical and calculating. He let slip a smile. He had, over the last several weeks allowed many such smiles to spread across his face. The most beautiful woman he could imagine stood before him. He did not regret fighting with the Admiralty to bring her along. After some persuasion, they adopted his reasoning. After her debrief there was little more they could learn from her, but the Metrons perhaps could unlock more. The same argument for 'John' proved equally fruitful. Over the last several weeks Kirk had bonded with her, often talking at length about the galaxy, life, and death. 'John' presented a different dynamic - cold, haunted, irritable. But like all great leaders, Jim knew one truth.

 _Keep your friends close, and…_ Kirk looked over at 'John', standing solid and firm, looking up at the boy Metron arguing with Cienna. Noting the scars and jagged etching of warfare, the captain asked himself the same question over and over again. _Are you my enemy?_

Perhaps sensing the stare, 'John's' eyes shifted to the side, his head tracking along. Two behemoths with iron, yet totally contrary wills, locked together like bull elephants. The voices of the Metron and Cienna faded, and the captain found himself lost in the eyes of darkness, of infinite pain and despair. But Kirk knew they brought no weakness, like he, pain brought passion, strength, power. He needed his pain, and he suspected, so did 'John'.

 _Do you know what I am thinking John? Can you sense it? What secrets do you hold…_ Kirk fought against the same logical impasse Spock could not overcome. _The voices, those terrible thoughts creeping into his mind, they must be something...is he mad?_ McCoy had detected overactive brain activity for weeks, but all pointed back to 'John's thoughts. No telepathy could be detected, not by Bone's instruments or Spock's mind-melds. _If John is insane, that means Cienna is also crazy, as her story corroborates his...and if they are both crazy… then we are wasting our time with the Metrons when we should be out preparing for war._

Interrupting his thoughts, Cienna stepped closer to Kirk, her soft voice blowing warm air on his cheek and ear. 'John' broke the stare and seemed to soften at Cienna's voice,

"James, is it possible the Metrons are wrong? The Dalek's would not have made such an obvious mistake."

'John' cut in, not liking her closeness and attention to the captain,

"There is no mistake, they are real, I hear them even now…"

Kirk took a deep breath, he felt caught, trapped in a strange situation where he needed to choose a direction. _I need to figure this out quick... Starfleet needs me, but in what capacity?_ He turned towards the young Metron, determined to get to the bottom of things.

"Metron. The book is just words, but perhaps there is an underlying danger, a form of technology that could access the dimension of these...things? Here, my friend John tells me he can hear them in his mind. Cienna, my other friend, says the Dalek's created a master plan. Surely they cannot both be wrong? How else can you explain-"

"Dear Captain, causality is not a concept your race excels in. Often you come to your own, erroneous conclusions with little fact. However, your suggestion the words are just technology masked, is possible. There exists many dimensions, perhaps an infinite amount. However, from what you have entered into your computer banks, our analysis diverges from your supposed possibilities. If these unknown creatures are as powerful as described and sought out by the Dalek's, it makes no logical sense that they could not move from universe to universe, dimension to dimension."

 _Identical to Spock's own reasoning, as well as the Enterprise's computer,_ thought Jim.

"No Metron! No." Cienna's frustration coming to a boil, "...the Old Ones are held at bay by a gate, one that can only open with words spoken from the Necronomicon. They must be said and believed by a human, or those who have been touched by the Old Ones. This is why I exist, this is why I was destined for Phobos. 'John' was to find me in the realm the humans discovered, unrelated to the real gate, the real danger. 'John' was to be tricked into opening the real gate to save me. I was created for him. The creatures he fought were just...slaves to the Old Ones. Just another race caught up in the Time War. A way to torture him, to destroy his mind and fighting spirit. My master's created an elaborate plan, wanting the Old Ones to kill their greatest enemies, the Time Lords. I do not know if it would have worked, but I do know that 'John' is touched, I am confident, what he hears is real."

As Cienna fought to convey her message, 'John' turned his head slowly back towards Kirk, emboldened by her faith. The soldier's eyes with hidden eyes and voices behind those, sought to consume the captain.

To devour.

 **He is transparent, we see through him. The great deceiver. When the time is right, you will kill him.**

'John' heard the familiar voices, clawing at him, consuming his essence,

 _No, no...Cienna would hate me, I cannot… maybe… maybe I should?_

 **You already have, we see it, we are always.**

 _But Cienna… I love her, she is mine, always. I cannot lose her, she would leave me. Killing… killing Kirk… no he's a good man, just trying to do what is right...but... maybe she would want me to…? Maybe… if he hurt her… no one can harm her… I am her protector. Forever._

 **In all times, in all space, he dies.**

Despite the hot arid landscape, a small chill ran down Kirk's spine, as if someone walked over his grave.

Up above, the Metron dictated its final conclusion, oblivious to the awkwardness below.

"We have access to all the information you have acquired, plus information that we have gained through our own devices. Right now we see no threat; if information changes we will reevaluate. The gate mentioned in the book, as you claim, appears to be the same one the human scientists from the soldier's universe opened on Phobos."

"No, that was just…" Cienna searched for words, "...a go-between. There are two, one, John travelled through to fight those creatures, and another, entirely different and hidden. The creatures on Phobos and those John chased into their own dimension were pawns, influenced by the Old Ones. They were only slaves, worshipers of something greater. What the Dalek's seek, exists beyond dimensions, through the gate, to the furthest places."

"There is nothing beyond dimension. What you describe cannot be, in a place that cannot be. Your mind is not advanced enough to realize this. We have analyzed everything that can be analyzed, either the facts are incomplete, or the message is incomplete. What you say and have indicated cannot stand. We have scanned your Marine companion, he is human. There are mutations in his DNA, easily explained by his movement between dimensions." The Metrons had indeed looked into this possible danger after sifting through the Enterprise records. And while inter-dimensional scanning was blocked due to temporal interference, they felt once the temporal winds subsided, they would locate said dimension if required. In their eyes however, no imperative existed, no creatures that could not move between universes would be a threat to them.

Kirk and Cienna felt exhausted. Deciding to switch topics, the captain asked a fleury of questions related to the probes,

"Can you point us in the right direction regarding the thousands of probes that have entered this part of the galaxy?"

"We can. We have captured many, we have analyzed many. Please remember Captain Kirk, we are thousands of years more advanced than your Federation."

"Of course... are they from the Dominion?"

"No, from elsewhere, beyond the Galactic Rim. They are no concern to us, no threat to us. We recognize your primitive technology will not enable you to capture one intact. We will afford you the benefit of a fully functional probe. It is for your study, we no longer need it."

The brilliant strategy of Grand Admiral Thrawn related to the probe droids held true even now. The droids were manufactured with no 'brain,' sent through the wormhole en masse and then programmed beyond the galactic rim of the Milky Way. This ensured captured and dissected probes would not lead anyone to their true origin. Up to this point, the Metron's had captured over four thousand probe droids, all void of meaningful information beyond their programming. To report all information possible, broadcasting omnidirectionally, so the receiver's location remained a mystery. The Metron's were by nature, isolationists, and to them the probes and any technology behind them seemed harmless and beneath their concern.

Would a tiger be concerned if a few ants came near? Would the cat seek out the colony and destroy it? It would surely not.

Cienna believed the real danger still lay with her masters, and found difficulty in letting the idea go,

"Metron, do you believe the Dalek's can reach us here?"

"The fate of the Dalek race is unknown to us, the temporal-blast may have destroyed them along with their enemies, but we cannot be sure. There was a Dalek onboard your ship when you entered this universe, was there not?"

"Yes, but it was destroyed along with the rest of my ship. We were caught in a Nova, by luck I survived."

"We are investigating, our conclusion is not yet final."

Kirk's gaze lost itself on the horizon, considering the knowns, and unknowns,

 _Could a Dalek have survived? Could a Dalek have come through the fissure near Betazed? Are there more Daleks? Starfleet is sure nothing came through. Sensor logs, personal logs, interviews, investigations, all completed by various departments and by hundreds if not thousands of people…_

"Did we miss something?" Murmured Kirk to the others, each looking at one another.

"Thank you for trying Cienna, I appreciate it," said 'John' with a hint of warmth, only brought out when speaking to her.

"Thank you John, I tried my best…" she replied, touching his shoulder and smiling.

Kirk said nothing, his mind elsewhere, disturbed. The urge to return to Earth ever present, the endless updates about fleet deployments and strategic updates, top of mind. Doubt now crept into his mind. His gut told him to push on, that 'John' and Cienna were telling the truth, a fantastic and unbelievable truth; but the truth. The rational part of his brain begged him to double-back, Bones warning him not to fall into a wild goose-chase. _War between the Cardassians and Klingons leaves us with only borrowed time before the Federation is dragged in._ _Opportunities to solve problems can afford no waste, answers to our questions are vital if this 'expedition' for truth is to continue._

"Metron, I have one last question, do you...have any suggestions for us? Any guiding principles?"

"Our technology allows us to comprehend many things Captain Kirk. We are the masters of space, of speed, of distance. But with minds as advanced as ours, we also recognize our limitations. We consult another for questions on time,"

"Who? We must speak to this person," Kirk took a few steps forward, _if, when everything is done, we could return to our natural timeline..._

"Go then, to the Guardian of Forever."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - DS9**

Four days passed since Commander Riker disappeared aboard DS9, the thorough search of both station and ship continuing nonstop. Crew quarters, Jeffrey tubes, cargo bays, and empty crew quarters were being checked and rechecked. Counsellor Troi spent time on the station conducting joint interviews with Odo in the hopes of uncovering details that may shed light on the situation. Even though years passed since her relationship with William Riker ended, buried memories resurfaced, making task even more difficult. Most stories corroborated the known events, detailing a massive fight in Quark's bar and eventual escort for Commander Riker to the nearest transporter bay. The problem being, no one would locate the escorting officers.

More than a dozen of Quark's guests found themselves thrown into the brig for mischief and fighting; a few outliers charged with murder and attempted murder for the death and beatings of the Klingons. The feline currency trader Shunor, the minx who spoke to Riker, now chatted with Troi through the brig shield.

"Will was flirty with me, paid for my drinks...too bad he is dead, I could have grown to like him, and he me..." she said with a maniacal smile, her predator eyes gleaming in the dull light. Troi fought back her anger and rage, with each passing day it became harder to handle, to fake her demeanor of professionalism.

"...there is no proof that Will would have..." Deanna fought to control a stray tear, "what were you talking about at the bar?"

"I can see he was not just a Commander, isn't that right Counselor. He was so much more. You must know, as he does, " Shunor nodded towards Odo, who stood with arms crossed,"... he is dead. You would not be here if there were other leads. If your sensors had detected a transporter you would have known about it. What have you morons been doing for four days? Starfleet socialist idiots… no creativity... He is dead! Or..." Shunor's white fangs crept out beyond her lips, "...he will be. Do you think your safe-spaces will help you? I liked Will in the small time I spoke to him, even though he was one of you, I could see he had courage, not you though, you are weak."

Odo felt Troi heard enough, and decided to end the conversation with finality,

"What we know, is that you are going to be in a penal colony for the rest of your life for the murder of Klingon Commander Tu'Cha. He bled to death because of your bite. You will go and die there of old age. Your days as a trader are over."

"I will _**BUY**_ the stars from your Federation! I was meant for greatness! This cell will not hold me!" roared Shunor. As Odo and Troi exited the brig they heard the last of her tirade as the doors slammed shut. "...only the strong will survive!"

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - U.S.S. Enterprise-D**

Captain Picard felt as if someone dropped a shuttlecraft on his head, he managed no sleep, neither did his crew. The Enterprise, parked beside DS9 monitored all frequencies of communication. William Riker, First Officer and friend, still missing.

Soon after the Klingons waged war against the Cardassians, a priority message from Admiral Ross stated in no uncertain terms, that the blockade around the wormhole would come to an end. The 4th Fleet rushed towards Bajor at Warp 9.85, the Klingon's desperate to stop the flow of Dominion ships from the Gamma Quadrant. Intelligence placed the Dominion ships clustering around Cardassia, and so the Federation needed to make a choice.

Strong arguments by a select few politicians thoroughly convinced the Federation Council the flow of ships must stop. Even though no military ties connected the Dominion and Cardassia, the writing as they say, 'is on the wall'.

Across several Federation worlds, a political poison seemed to be spreading throughout some large population centers. Rife with dissident, politicians once able to tow Starfleet's line, now double-guessed their speeches. Picard just digested a short clip of a city mayor on Andoria, a Federation Member World calling for an audit of Starfleet ship deployment locations.

It's hard to convey the amount of stress upon Picard's mind, but the previous paragraph is but a glimpse.

 _If we are not careful, we will have a full-blown war on our hands, with a population torn in many directions… and yet, Will is missing. I do not have time to juggle so many priorities,_ Picard smiled as he thought of his favorite author, Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle of the Sherlock Holmes series. Anything and everything to help him balance an impossible task. _Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth_ , so said the mantra. _A logical principle, while simple, asks for the most faithful of minds in the process of elimination._

Data suggested it possible the unidentified security officers who escorted Riker were perhaps Changelings. Their infiltration of Starfleet Command giving credence to their ability to mask their actual forms. The android postulated the Changelings could have possibly kidnapped Riker onto a merchant ship, but admitted little evidence existed to support this. Odo, chief of security aboard DS9 agreed in principle of this possibility but the question of 'Why?' could not be answered.

Other remote possibilities did not last long in debate, including phaser disintegration, wilful abandonment, mind control, and the list went on. Every plausible scenario debated, analyzed, and ultimately dismissed. Now though, he fought with Starfleet Intelligence over the identities of the security officers.

"...that is exactly why I need all pertinent information regarding the detection of Changelings available to Starfleet," demanded Picard into his Ready Room desktop screen.

Director Sloan let out a slow sigh,

"Picard, as I have already said, we cannot just hand out classified information willy-nilly. These Changelings are everywhere, they could even be part of your crew for all we know. If they know what we know, then we are in trouble. My team has the hardware required to detect them and we will send information to the fleet at an appropriate time. But only when we can mass produce it, otherwise they might catch a glimpse of its application."

"A man's life is on the line! An excellent officer, the Commander of the flagship of the Federation." Picard could not believe the stonewalling taking place.

"Do you know how many men and women I've lost in the last few months trying to uncover information that is going to help us in the next few years? Longer I suppose, ten years, twenty. I maintain Starfleet's future security Captain Picard, one person, cannot jeopardize it. Where was the outrage when they didn't make it home? I'm sure you heard about the attempted murder of Council Member Bodega at Starfleet Command?"

"Yes, but I have not reviewed the report, I have been a little busy..."

"Let me see…" Sloan looked down at his datapad, searching for the briefing, "...a security officer threw himself in front of a phaser discharge before it struck the Council Member...the guard completely vaporized on the spot. The Changeling was then killed by another guard. Thank god there were witnesses because the security camera was down. You see Captain? We are losing people in the field daily...and this Gilver, sorry, Gulliver. Lieutenant Commander Gulliver paid the ultimate price. I never heard of him before today, but like him, many others are laying on the line for humanity. He's a goddamn hero if you ask me. Service was held this morning, Admiral Paris told me ten minutes ago that he knew his family growing up, or something of the effect...these are good men and women, but you don't see us releasing classified information over it. Commander Riker is no different. When I return to Earth I will assemble a team to track down those unidentified officers on DS9, until then, good luck in your investigation." The line cut.

Picard slammed his first down and closed his eyes, _this is unbelievable, how can this be happening?_

"Oh...it's happening alright," came a sudden voice from across the room.

Picard's head snapped to the side, his eyes wide open,

"Q! I should have known, only you would stoop to such barbarity! Stop this at once, all of it!"

"All what?" Asked Q with a puzzled look. Dressed in an Admiral's uniform, with a few extra medals attached to his chest, the god-being basked in the spotlight. The angrier Picard got, the happier he felt.

"The Cardassian-Klingon war, the Changeling infiltrations, Captain Kirk and his crew, strange visitors... and, for the love of God bring back my first officer."

"Jean-Luc, I'm here only to say hello, and perhaps goodbye. It has been fun, our witty banter, our delicious and satisfying conversations about morality-"

"Q! Bring back my officer."

"No."

Q kept a smile on his face, a ruse. In actuality, Q did not know William Riker was missing until this moment. Without his power to move forward and backward in time, he experienced everything as it occurred; in the present-now. Typically, a Q could see both forward and backward in time in any given situation so all the previous events and future events would be known while having a conversation in 'the now.' The temporal distortions put an end to this practice. At this point, Q's like all others did not know the future, the fog of the unknown descending upon them. Unless precisely known, a Q could no more tell if something or someone belonged in any given Universe than a human would know if an ant belonged on their lawn or their neighbors.

"Q, listen to me, please," Picard placed his hands palm-down on his desk. "There is significant instability in the galaxy right now. I do not know if you are creating it, if you are the one responsible, but what I say now transcends guilt and self-righteousness. Soon, possibly within the next few hours, the Federation is going to challenge the blockade on this side of the wormhole. If the Dominion does not relent their positions and withdraw into the Gamma Quadrant, it could start a war. Millions could die."

"You are not as dumb as Worf looks. Correct."

Picard, ignoring the insult to his security chief, stood up and took a seat on the corner of his desk,

"Q. You once told me that humanity could reach beyond the stars, that we could become... perhaps one day as great as yourselves."

"Yes, perhaps being the keyword."

"Is this another test Q?"

"Jean-Luc, your insect race is always being tested, judged, and studied. Not just from us you know, but originally from your makers." Q smiled as he saw the look of confusion creep along the Captain's face. "I know you think you know where you came from. That your species was farmed out like cattle into the galaxy, which is why so many of you look similar. Well, I have a secret for you, a long time ago, very very long ago actually, there were those who thought there should be more life in the Universe. We of course, disagreed. At any rate, we ascended into the Continuum and they chose to stay behind to create life, you specifically, and others, but you were their favorite."

"Why have you never mentioned this before?"

"Does your pet fish over in the tank know about the impending war? C'mon Picard, be intelligent," Q chuckled at his own wit before continuing, "Anyway, they are gone now, so we thought it appropriate to take over their duties as judges for all life. So yes, this is a test, and your small, tiny, micro-brains may discover how to pass."

"And if we do not pass?"

"Life, Captain, what does life do when it cannot thrive? It withers, withdraws, and dies."

"But what is the criteria of the test? You are so vague Q. How can someone pass a test without knowing the guidelines? Are you judging us by the same criteria and morality that...these..these.." Picard searched for a name, "...these Precursors were using?" Before Q could answer, the door chimed, "Come." Q disappeared in a flash.

Recently promoted Commander Data entered the Ready Room, surprised to see Picard in such an irate demeanor. In normal circumstances the First Officer position would remain vacant, but with so much uncertainty, Picard saw no other choice.

"Captain, the 4th Fleet will arrive in three minutes, eight seconds. The Dominion continues to reinforce their blockade, the total ship count is twenty-seven."

"Very well...red alert."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Demilitarized Zone - Federation Colony World Epilus**

Darth Maul and Boba Fett slipped quietly into the courtyard of a run down 'hut' on the edge of a Colonist town. Somewhere the moon shone, stretching shadows in all directions. The duo tracked down Danz Borin, a Bounty Hunter hired by the Galactic Empire six months ago to gather information on the few species in the Delta Quadrant. All contact with Borin ceased months ago, leading to a manhunt and now assassination. It became known to the Empire that he chose to abandon his duties to the Empire to take-up work within the Alpha Quadrant. Using probe droid information as well as Force sensitivities, Maul tracked him to this small world on the outcroppings of the Demilitarized Zone near the Cardassian border. Their mission - to kill Borin, plant a single Cardassian body, and exit undetected. Thrawn counted on the Colonists to suspect a commando team of Cardassians, creating turmoil and hopefully a war between the colonists and Cardassia. Thrawn anticipated a call for help would then be sent to the Federation, pulling them into a terrible political situation with the Cardassians.

Things more or less moved in the directions dictated, with a few small, but unimportant bumps. Thirty-seven Bounty Hunters had been assassinated by Maul and Fett, all abandoning their missions to take-up side-work for profit from traders, merchants, and governments. Thrawn took note of this increased abandon and acted quickly and politically to solve it. While not in direct command of Maul, the Grand Admiral would suggest ideas by way of the Emperor, and then the instruction would go out to Maul.

Now in the dim light, the Sith crept along the wall, his Force powers probing the innards of the small run-down shanty. Danz lay inside, asleep and alone. Boba Fett pressed a few commands into his forearm instrument and a hover-droid came over the shrubs with the underslung Cardassian body.

"Still no sensor instruments in range," whispered Fett. Maul nodded and unclipped his Lightsaber and placed it against the shanty wall. Death came instantly, the ignited blade pierced the flimsy aluminum and drove straight into Danz Borin's heart. Fett signaled the droid and the Cardassian body quietly and carefully slid beside the deadly insertion.

Both men hurried away, but not before leaving a small Cardassian explosive on the other side of the small murky, courtyard.

"Charge set for ten minutes, low yield, just enough to wake them up." Maul nodded again and the pair began moving slowly towards the dark ridgeline, out and away from the village.

"Stop." Commanded Maul as they reached the outskirts. Boba Fett dropped to one knee and started checking his sensors. While limited, they could still give him a relatively large field of view. Both men looked into the darkness; the village appeared a dull white from the moonlight, eerie and ghostlike. After a few seconds, they saw it. A small blue flicker, an engine exhaust, first one, then two, then three. More rose into the air as civilian craft began to lift off from the ground within the village and surrounding area. The distant rumble of thrusters slowly increasing as more took off.

Both Maul and Boba looked at one another, Boba especially worried,

 _The explosive didn't go off yet… how… why are they waking?_

Both rushed quickly to their predesignated encrypted-transporter coordinates five kilometers away. Activating their teleporters, they materialized back onboard a heavily modified Slave-1 in orbit. Boba Fett's ship bristled with all the necessary technology to afford them such dangerous missions. A refurbished Borg sensor assembly, a modified Klingon cloak, and a teleporter system from the Dominion. Many other upgrades helped them stay undetected, but they do not need to be listed here.

"Why did we not detect those ships before?" hissed Maul angrily.

"We did. Those are the crop and assembly ships that all the colony worlds have. They are just civilian and merchant craft."

"Why are they taking off? Where are they going?" Furious, Maul hated compromised missions, "we must have been detected…"

"How? They are colonists. They did not detect us… standby… our device is detonating,"

Peering into his Borg display, fire and dust replaced the quiet courtyard, but the body remained exactly as planted. Soon, he expected to see Colonists running wild, terrified, and afraid. To his surprise, Instead of mass panic, more and more ships flared their engines and lifted off, far more than had been identified.

Boba zeroed in on the readings,

"The ships...they are coming out of caves, deep caves we had not seen. Heavily armed, looks like...looks like weapons have just been attached, welded on."

Now totaling more than four hundred, the heavily modified ships no larger than shuttlecraft created a wedge formation in the upper atmosphere.

"Have we been detected?" Asked the Sith,

"No, they aren't even scanning for anything..."

Hundreds of flashes from warp drives filled their viewscreen,

"Where are they headed?"

"Course suggests, Cardassia Prime," responded Fett, shock evident in his voice. _The Colonists are supposed to blame the Cardassians...but how can they react so quickly? Why do they have so many weaponized farming ships… the bomb just went off… maybe-_

"Move this ship, now!" shouted Maul, reaching over and tugging on Fett's shoulder. All sensor inputs flickered momentarily as the surface of the colony world seemed to lift and swell several kilometers as rock turned to liquid. The planet's surface expanded like a balloon, pushed upward from a tremendous detonation deep within it. For several minutes, Epilus no longer seemed cohesive, just a liquid ball of broken and molten rock. Slave-1 veered out of orbit to a safe distance to further witness the devastation. Magma spewed from the cracked surface, oceans swelled and the atmosphere fought to keep its precious air. Slowly the pieces reformed under the power of gravity into a stable world, but it's ecosystem and supporting atmosphere did not return. All life on the surface would perish; even the smallest of animals would quickly suffocate or starve as ash clouds spread across the now toxic atmosphere.

Inside the cockpit of Slave-1, total silence.

 _Everything went right, and yet so unpredictably wrong._ Maul maintained his deep thought, his mind fused with the darkside. Searching, seeking, trying to determine the cause of this planet's demise. Fragmented images came and went, displaying maybes and maybe-nots, possibilities, and possibly-nots. _A bomb, a massive bomb...but why? Who? I cannot see… The Emperor will see through this, and send guidance,_

"Send all information we have registered to Grand Admiral Thrawn, order him to forward it to the Emperor. Now, set course for our next target,"

"Yes my lord."


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Drip to Torrent

 **Imperial Galaxy - Rebel Base - Secret Location**

A rusty, thoroughly used ramp lowered onto the floor of the dank hanger bay deep inside a natural cave on an unknown moon. The shuttle decades old, stolen years ago and now re-purposed for the Rebel Alliance. The ship itself as unimportant as the rust that covered it, routinely making runs throughout the sector. Today however, its belly held a rare cargo, one both unusual and suspicious.

Five armed Rebel soldiers guided a chained and blindfolded figure through the winding tunnels of the underground base. Long-dry underground streams created an elaborate network of caverns millions of years ago. Now, the only remaining water condensed and dripped off stalactites on the ceilings. A jab of a blaster rifle dug deep into the visitor's back. Tunnels leading to even more tunnels twisted and sloped downward, eventually opening into a command base.

"Have her sit, remove her restraints and blindfold." Ordered Mon Mothma, leader of the Rebellion. Around her, General Dodonna, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia and Chewie stood in a semicircle, all looking at the new visitor. Many droids and sensor operators lined the peripheral of the room, continuing their work unabated. Mon Mothma donned her signature white dress, her thin delicate frame did not give hint to the enormous burden it carried. For twenty years she shouldered the leadership of the Rebellion; there existed plenty of help to be sure but the responsibility ultimately rested with her.

The straggly, unkempt visitor rubbed her eyes and wiped away the matted black hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. Large intricate earrings hung loosely from her ears, and a small ridge separated her eyebrows.

"Thank you..thank you so much..." she barely whispered.

"You are looking for us?" Asked Dodonna.

"Yes, you are the leaders? I have been interrogated by so many people…"

Mothma sighed quietly while imagining the screenings this visitor must have endured. Security of the Rebellion was paramount, and at this stage of the game, elaborate protocols were unavoidable.

"You are free to speak now. We are the leadership,"

As Mothma finished her sentence, the haggard woman broke down and began to sob. Tears of joy and relief streamed down her dirty face,

"Please!" she wept, "You need to help us..." her voice faded out and her head sunk into her hands,

The semi-circle of Rebels shared a concerned look, not expecting such a soulful outburst.

"Your name is Ro? Ro Laren?" Asked Leia in an attempt to 'break the ice.'

"Yes, you can call me Ro if you like, it's my mother's name. It's all I have left...just memories."

"So what do ya want?" asked Han gruffly, his fingers tapping slowly on his blaster. He did not intend to use it, but old habits die hard.

"A war is brewing, my people are in real danger. We are defenseless."

"Is this war in another galaxy?" asked Leia. The leadership had been thoroughly briefed by Luke's visions of the Milky Way; images snatched from the mind of the ill-fated bounty hunter on Outland Transit Station months ago.

"Yes…"

"How do you know about us? What is your story?" Hans natural suspicions of a smuggler coming in handy.

"I live in a place called the Demilitarized Zone, it is not my home planet, but it is my home now. There are many like us, we are colonists, people who want to be left alone. We create our own food, resources, ships, everything. We are not interested in politics or fighting over resources. Your Empire is pushing into-"

"Not our Empire, let us remember that," added Mothma, gently.

"They control others and through them we are being attacked. We have no weapons that can hurt them, we are no threat. We have been abandoned by everyone, used as pawns for inter-quadrant politics."

"And how did you discover us?"

"The Empire is using Bounty Hunters to infiltrate my galaxy. They are everywhere. Traders, merchants, officers, family members, they are buried so deep it's almost impossible to spot or uproot them. They have completely blended in. We caught one, and we got the information out of him. He had a ship and I used it to come here to seek you out. I have been searching for a month. I have had little rest or food...or," looking down at herself "...a shower. He knew all about you though, everyone does. We are like you, the Maquis, trying to make a difference."

"The Maquis? Are you an underground organization? How many are you?"

"We operate within the Colony worlds. Not officially part of the governance, we...sort of work in the shadows. There are dozens of worlds, hundreds of thousands of people. We are not all united but share more or less the same problems. The Cardassians used to come to our planets for ore and other resources. Now they just come and kill us. We are bombarded from orbit, or we are being infected with diseases. We have asked our allies, or the closest thing we have to an alley, the Federation, for help for years. We tried to take matters into our own hands. We formed our own rebellion. You need to help us, we have nothing. few ships only…" 

During this time of conversation, Luke remained silent, standing a few steps back from the group. His icy blue eyes penetrating the very fabric of Ro Laren's being. Through the Force he could 'feel' her,

 _The suffering is real, the bitter-hatred, agony, the loss of her parents... bleeding through._ Luke _**felt**_ her pain, her hatred for the Cardassians and now the Empire. Deeper he delved into her 'being.' _What is your destiny? Where have you been? Where will you go?_ The Force guided him, even in fragmentation, the power came to him. _There is more… not deception...not willful ignorance… danger. Yes, there is something, darkness,_ Luke closed his eyes and outstretched his hand, as if in slow motion. He pushed deeper into the Force; not with power, or finesse, or anger, but with patience and wisdom. _There is a terrible danger somewhere beyond the wormhole_. Luke opened his eyes and continued to listen to the conversation. Han paced while grilling her on propulsion,

"Let me get this straight. You plotted a course from your Demilitarized Zone to a wormhole which you say is somewhere on the edge of the Gamma Quadrant on the edge of the galaxy... then ran the Imperial blockade on this side, then managed to make it to Yunif Colony on the Outer Rim where you met our contact?"

"Yes." Ro shook her head, not in disappointment, but because it did seem totally unbelievable when Han described it.

"Clever using an old Republic communication channel to broadcast your wish to meet us," added Dodonna. "Did you learn this from the Bounty Hunter as well?"

"We did, we ...tortured him,"

"Something stinks," said Han looking at the others, "that ship we confiscated couldn't make that run, you'd have run out of fuel in the Milky Way."

"You can check the ship log," countered Ro,

"We did, which makes this even fishier," said Han flatly.

Discussion continued for hours as the group dissected Ro Laren's story, checking and rechecking details and figures. The scrupulous Rebels went over even the most basic of ship computer code. Astrometric droid diagnostics came back clean which nearly blew Solo's mind. He could not believe it, _it has trap written all over it_ , but he could not prove it. In addition to fundamental navigational questions, the modified transporter technology set up inside the bounty hunter vessel brought supreme interest. The Rebels could scarcely believe its ability, with almost indescribable ramifications for their guerilla war effort. Han imagined all the ways such a device would be utilized, but something was missing. Without a subspace sensor grid, which according to Ro came standard on starships in her galaxy, the transporter could not be used beyond a few hundred feet. _How convenient_. _Enough to give us a taste, but not a meal. A tease..._ After four hours the group broke away, with Ro being sent to a guarded room. The Rebels could not risk letting her go at this time.

"General Solo... General Solo," Han turned around to see golden C3P0 clumsily moving towards him,

"What is it golden-rod? I'm busy"

"R2 has just extracted the entire Milky Way star-chart from Ro Laren's ship, we are now able to plot hyperspace lanes." This was big. Han hoped for some star-charts, _but not the entire galaxy?!_ The Rebels could now move through the Milky Way without as much as sending a single scouting ship. This essential detail a must if they were ever to make the journey. _Could be fake, maybe...could be real...maybe._

"It is real," said Luke, startling Han who realized he was mumbling to himself the entire time,

"What makes you so sure?"

"I just know."

Han eyed Luke carefully, if it had been a few years ago he would have scoffed at the idea of the Force, but now...he believed.

"OK, kid, what do you got in mind?"

"We need to go through, there is a terrible danger to all of us, far worse than the Empire... I can feel it."

Leia closed her eyes and breathed, trying to remain calm,

"...but Luke, if there is such a terrible danger…"

"A mortal danger...and that is why we must go."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise - D**

The one-hundred and fifty ships making up the 4th Federation Fleet moved at half impulse towards the Dominion blockade. Shaped in a concave half-sphere, slowly shrinking and closing in on the wormhole entrance. Picard ended a heated conversation with Weyoun, the Vorta with administrative control of the Alpha Quadrant forces.

 _A pointless discussion_ seethed Picard. _This is going to end one of two ways, either they fall back, or we go to war._

"Three hundred thousand kilometers and closing, we are now in weapons range," reported Data from his new seat beside the Captain. All ships indicated red alert status, with weapons and shields pushed to maximum power. The idea was to close in from all angles, forcing the Dominion to retreat into the wormhole.

"Status Mr. Worf?" asked Picard,

"Thirty-four Dominion ships, they have repositioned their cruisers for optimal defensive protection, I suspect they will fight."

"Thank you. Signal the fleet to increase speed to two-thirds impulse, adjust shields for maximum frontal protection."

"Aye sir, fleet responding."

"Data, how long until we are nose to nose with them?"

"At our new speed, four minutes, twenty-eight seconds."

The noose continued to tighten, and in response the Dominion ships adjusted and readjusted their positions. Onboard DS9, tensions ran high, people lined up along the promenade windows, watching, waiting. The wormhole they noted seemed strangely quiet; no reinforcements had arrived for some time. A good sign for some who imagined a retreat would surely come, given the offsetting sizes of the fleets. Quark's bar collected dust, even the most loyal of customers were preoccupied with what they assumed would come. If Starfleet engaged the Dominion, the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants would be at war, and all the trading that ensued would be lost. The cross of cultures and histories would cease, and friendships would be stretched thin. All this and more weighed on the hundreds of smugglers, merchants, businessmen and women, and aliens who frequented the station's hospitalities and commerce centers.

"Increase to full impulse," ordered Picard,

"We will be at the wormhole horizon in one minute, thirty-eight seconds," reported Data as he continued to scan his instrument panel attached to the side of his chair.

Picking his lip in typical fashion, thoughts raced through Picard's mind.

 _Retreat… retreat… that is the only way, do not stand and fight, we can work this out. This seems like a setup, a terrible, awful setup. We can't help ourselves, we are just being pulled and pushed, perfectly designed to drag us into war._

Abruptly Picard shouted, his crew jumping at the outburst.

"Anytime Q! You can stop this anytime!" And waited.

And waited.

 _Very well then,_

Picard pulled down his uniform and pushed himself back into his seat. "Mr. Worf, signal Admiral Ross we are about to engage the Dominion forces, tell him that they have not retreated. Deanna?"

"Captain, I sense uneasiness, I feel significant stress onboard the Dominion ships, they are worried."

Before Picard could respond, Worf's sensor input began to beep in earnest,

"Detecting ninety-six craft heading towards us on long-range sensors, traveling at warp...9.98"

Data stood up and whirled around,

"Can you identify them Lieutenant?"

"Negative," Data hustled up the ramp along the side of the bridge and briskly made his way to Worf's tactical station.

"Confirmed, detecting ninety-six incoming unidentified vessels, their origin trajectory places them from the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone. Attempting to ascertain their identity,"

"Hail them," ordered the Captain. Within a second an incoming transmission illuminated the main viewer. A scruffy human male sat alone in a small, cramped shuttlecraft, his dirty clothes evidence of hard times. In the background, pieces of modified machinery and electronics whirled and throbbed, all interconnected to unknown systems. "I am Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise. I urge you to change course, you are heading towards a potentially dangerous situation."

"Captain," the relief tangible in his voice,"... thank god you are here. We are all that is left of Colony Outpost Epilus in the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone. Cardassian and Dominion fleets attacked our world, there is nothing left! Some of our ships are here with me, the rest are heading towards the Cardassian border, we need your help." Picard turned towards Worf and gave the 'mute' command.

"Data, any news regarding Outpost Epilus?"

"None sir,"

Picard signaled Worf and the viewer came back to life,

"We are not aware of any attack upon your-"

"It only happened a few hours ago! We are what is left! We sent this information to Starfleet, but they do not care! We will make them _**PAY**_!" The transmission cut, the man being replaced with a star-field, and the small but growing gray outlines of Dominion ships in the distance.

Commander Data relayed new information, his fingers flying as fast as possible,

"Captain, Colonist ships now approaching warp 10.55. They are obviously using some form of advanced transwarp, but I am unable to ascertain the precise technology."

Seconds ticked by, Picard concentrating on the rapidly escalating situation.

 _How can Colonists travel faster than our maximum warp of 9.98…? They are only farmers, villagers… how can they achieve what we cannot from their limited resources? And now, will arrive seconds after we engage… if it comes to that… how convenient… is this part of the test?_ I _f we choose the wrong path, we could start a war...history will judge us by what we do here._ The bridge of the Enterprise waited in silent anticipation, the slow humming and beeping of instrument panels the only noise audible.

Finally, after endless seconds ticked past, Picard made his decision.

"Mr. Worf...hail Weyoun on the Dominion command cruiser, inform them they are in danger. Explain they are about to be attacked." Worf stood stunned, Data equally surprised. By a gesture of good faith, Picard hoped to avoid certain bloodshed. "Mr. Worf, now."

"Aye, sending,"

"We are now within 500 kilometers," indicated the helmsmen.

"Cut to one-eighth impulse, signal the Delrayeo to form up alongside us, we are going nose to nose with the command cruiser. Order the Equinox to turn about and head off the lead Colonist ship,"

You have to imagine the remarkable situation unfolding in space only a few thousand kilometers from DS9 and an equal distance from the wormhole. The Federation fleet resembled a giant hand, slowly closing around an ever compacting fleet of Dominion ships; with nowhere to retreat but into the Gamma Quadrant.

"We are now nose to nose, 50km and holding," noted Worf. Dominion cruisers floated ominously before them, weapons charged and shields active. They waited.

 _Here we have it, the last moment of peace, what shall it be..._

"Colonist ships ignoring our hails...they have circumvented the Equinox," reported Data, still standing beside Worf at tactical, "they will be arriving within our defensive perimeter in six seconds...five...four…three...two...one." Right on cue, ninety-six Colonist ships, each no larger than a bus, exited warp.

In no less than a second, a light brighter than the hottest star blinded the bridge team with a ferocity and luminosity never seen in Starfleet combat.

Instinctively, everyone threw their hands in front of their faces. Sparks erupted from various command consoles with one poor ensign finding flight, sailing into a bulkhead several meters away.

"Report!" Shouted the captain, the light bypassing his tightly held fingers.

The Dominion command cruiser and five escort ships now floated as molecules, blown into a million pieces. What remained could be described as a hot expanding mass of molten metal, with indistinguishable engine and bulkhead pieces floating about.

Able to finally see his tactical board, Worf rang off the inputs,

"Total thermonuclear conversion, some form of superatomic warhead. The Colonists have them slung to the underbellies of their crop ships."

Trapped within a small spatial area with their backs to the wormhole, the Dominion lashed out.

Unbeknownst to the Federation, the phased polaron beams of the Dominion allowed for a complete bypass of Federation shield grids. Instantly, alarm klaxons whaled throughout the decks of the Federation fleet as shields designed to protect, became useless. In the first opening volley, eight Federation ships violently exploded. Only circumstance allowed the Enterprise to survive, thanks to the Colonists destroying the leading cruisers in the Dominion wedge formation. Faced with the startling reality that the battle must be won, or the wormhole would be left wide open, Picard started calling out orders.

Worf immediately took advantage of his targeting discretion. The opportunity came along rarely, and he did not let the opportunity pass. Phaser and Photon Torpedos struck ship after ship as the Enterprise, flanked by nine others, waded into the opening in the Dominion line. The half-sphere formation of the Starfleet vessels bombarded inward with a tremendous sustained attack. Every officer knew that if this battle held any less consequence, the 4th Fleet would turn tail and regroup for another engagement. But they could not, would not, retreat. The wormhole being the only connector between Quadrants; they had to hold. Every man, woman, and alien worked at peak output, desperate to keep their ships alive. Another massive explosion rocked the battle-scape. The last of the Colonist missiles striking their marks, superheated plasma and debris collided into shields like hail on a windscreen.

On the Enterprise, Data tried to clear up the explanation of the colonist weapons,

"The Colonists are using ultra-high yield nuclear warheads, the entire missile, as well as surrounding spatial molecules, are being turned into pure energy. We cannot absorb a direct hit."

Certain the Colonists would not attack them, Picard shouted a response,

"Tell me about the Dominion!" Data re-focused on the fleet deployment; his positronic brain trying to ascertain the dangers and opportunities. His lightning fast calculations predicted an eighty-nine percent probability the Dominion would be forced to retreat or be destroyed.

Just then, three Dominion fighters, much larger than a standard Federation Shuttlecraft broke out of their formations and came streaking in low to try to catch them off guard.

"Mr. Worf, target the lead fighter, all phasers," ordered Picard. On the viewscreen, several phaser beams connected on the 'nose' of the craft, its relatively weak shielding buckling under the strain. Escort ships flanking the Enterprise quickly joined the attack and the fighter abruptly exploded under the onslaught. The Dominion wingmen, undeterred from their leader's demise fired their phased polaron beams towards the Enterprise, never to reach their target. The Delrayeo, an Akira class starship banked hard into the line of fire, placing itself between the Enterprise and rapidly closing attackers. With the Akira's shields unable to stop the polaron beams, her saucer section ruptured and spew precious air into the cold. "Helm, set course 323 mark 8, protect the Delrayeo."

The Enterprise and remaining escorts pitched downward to try and cover their crippled companion. The Delrayeo lay adrift, its bridge decapitated and all power systems disabled. On-screen Picard could see the partially destroyed saucer section growing larger by the second, and just beyond, but out of view, raced the incoming Dominion fighters.

"Mr. Worf, as soon as we clear the Delrayeo, launch a full spread of photon torpedoes."

"Aye Sir...clearing the Delrayeo in 10...9...8…"

Fingers dug into armrests and everyone clenched their jaws,

"7...6...5...preparing torpedo spread...4...3...2...firing."

Both the Enterprise and Dominion fighters cleared the wreckage of the stricken Starfleet ship, but the fate of the Dominion attack ships had been decided. A full spread of photon torpedoes launched with perfect timing.

 _ **BOOM!**_

It is doubtful the navigators and pilots of the Dominion ships even saw the torpedoes, their massacred bodies now freely floating molecules among the wreckage. The Enterprise now pitched upward, participating in the ferocious bombardment from beneath. The already small pocket of Dominion ships collapsed inward at an accelerated rate. Despite the relatively useless Starfleet shields, the Colonists initial attack had caused enough havoc for the ensuing Federation bombardment to keep them in the battle.

After several long minutes, and thunderous levels of explosions,

"Fleet down to nineteen ships...the Dominion have three remaining," bellowed Worf moments before the bridge violently jolted. Picard's eyes flickered open, he found himself lying on his back looking at the ceiling dome, his head spinning and ears ringing. Data came charging down the ramp with a look of concern on his face,

"Status?" asked the Captain as he was helped back into his chair. The viewscreen flickered in a static mess, and the bridge plunged into near darkness, only dimly lit emergency lights saving the crew from utter blackness.

"Captain! Captain!" shouted Geordie Laforge from engineering, "We've lost our port nacelle, it's been completely _**sheared off!**_. I think a phased polaron beam cut the supporting superstructure, separating the warp nacelle from the rest of the ship." Dangerous levels of radiation now choked the lower decks, eating and warping the delicate human cell in which it touched.

Holding onto his head, the ringing bells still resounding as if beside him, Picard dictated a response,

"Seal off bulkheads, have those crew members evacuated. Worf, hail the remaining Dominion ships,"

The static-ridden viewscreen struggled to bring-up the bridge of the Dominion Cruiser. Smoke filled the screen, with indications of fire or perhaps burning consoles somewhere in the background. Screams rang out and someone shouted orders frantically. Picard squinted to try and determine the situation.

 _Why are Jem'Hadar fighters firing their phaser rifles on their own ship?_ A Vorta hunkered down behind a console shouted into the viewer, ducking just in time to avoid an incoming blast.

"Tell your forces to withdraw Captain! We will do the same," said the Vorta as he ducked to avoid another phaser blast. Picard signaled for 'mute' and turned to his first officer.

"Have any of our ships boarded the Dominion vessel?"

"Negative."

Picard turned back to the viewscreen to watch for another moment. _Are the Colonists boarding them?... there are only a handful of Colonist ships left, hardly enough for a boarding party...they can't be that foolish…_

"Picard, the...your Colonists are trying to take over my ship!" shouted the Vorta as he directed his troops to a location somewhere off screen. "We are working to suppress them in the corridors, we- " his bridge shook violently and then the screen cut. The cruiser exploded with all hands aboard lost, the Jem'Hadar engineers unable to contain the warp core breach.

"Both Dominion ships are attempting to retreat into the wormhole," reported Worf. Picard glanced down at his armchair instrument panel, _finally_. The two remaining ships, both belching smoke and fighting to maintain power levels, inched towards freedom.

Worf's fingers prepared a spread of photon torpedoes, the phaser coils being offline due to damage.

"We can still destroy them sir. There is just enough power to launch one last salvo, if we turn power off on decks, 3, 6, and-"

"Why?"

Picard slumped into his chair, unable to shake the terrible feeling of loss, the tens of thousands of lives snuffed out within the last few minutes in this horrific battle. "What would be the point Mr. Worf? To kill another few hundred? No...that is not our way. Let them go…" a heavy sigh on his breath. Through the cracked and flickering screen, the bright blue 'maw' of the wormhole erupted open and the first of two Dominion ships entered.

The captain watched, each passing second, bringing him closer to exhaustion, _it's nearly over, perhaps, enough to not-_

In the corner of the viewscreen, a small object hurtled towards the entrance, fire engulfing the exterior, like a comet in the night sky.

"Identify that object Mr. Data."

"Sensors are almost inoperable, but... I believe that is a Colonist shuttlecraft...heavily damaged."

"Hail them," ordered Picard but it was of no use.

Inside the cockpit of the civilian craft, a mother sobbed. Blood streamed from her mouth as she pushed the throttle to maximum, her cracked knuckles white with anger.

 _You will pay for the death of my children, You. Will. Pay!_

In self-defense, the Dominion Cruiser's polaron beam clipped the side of the shuttle, causing the small craft to spin end over end towards the retreating ship. Still, undeterred, the mother grasped at the mechanical systems behind her,

 _You destroyed my colony, my family, my children, now, you will meet the maker, and what justice he holds for you all,_ A superatomic warhead armed behind the flight seat, _my babies, I will see you again,_

Like before, a bright blast of mass converted energy filled the visual spectrum as she struck the cruiser moments before it entered the maw.

Picard lowered his head and closed his eyes,

 _It's over_

Nineteen Federation ships remained, leaving close to fifty-thousand dead. Of the ninety-six Colonist craft, only four survived, each damaged and adrift.

"Captain, incoming transmission, from one of the Colonist ships…" Picard looked up at his broken viewscreen to see a young woman seated in the cramped cockpit with an oxygen mask over her face. Life support no longer functioned, but he could still hear her mumbled speech,

"Captain…" she wheezed through the mask, "thank you, thank you for defending us. Thank you for taking our side. We…" she paused to catch her breath, the oxygen system failing, "we are in your debt."


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Unveiling

 **Imperial Galaxy Wormhole - Milky Way Entrance**

The throbbing red light of the cockpit sensor-system painted a crimson and shadowy outline of Kinnison's hard face. His newly acquired craft, the Omark IV was currently parked in a stationary position in front of the yet to be unveiled wormhole connecting the Milky Way and the mysterious Imperial Galaxy. In front and behind, there were dozens of similar craft all waiting to return to their home galaxy. He had killed an Imperial Bounty Hunter and effortlessly assumed his identity, the commandeered ship and scheduling logs allowing him to approach the caravan where he currently waited. Over the last four months, he had acquired vast amounts of information concerning Imperial plans, technology, and strategy. The minds of the foreign Bounty Hunters and Changelings were ripe with information. He did not yet know their 'master' plan as he had not touched minds with the Emperor or a high ranking commander but that time would come, he was sure of it.

How he found himself here, at the entrance to the wormhole was due to necessity rather than planning. His primary mission, the assassination of the Dalek had failed. Director Sloan had been in constant communication with his secretive base, but had not actually seen the alien they had found in the Elop system. It did not however take a genius, let alone a Second Stage Lensman to realize the information obtained corroborated the story of Cienna, and so his action was clear; he must kill it. Months had passed on Earth and all the while a ship was being constructed. A secret project, known temporarily to those scientists who worked on it during their vacations and shore leave. All blissfully unaware after the fact, their minds scraped clean of its existence. Technology native to the Lensman Universe had been placed into this ship, along with borrowed or stolen technology from other races, including Federation allies. Powered by ether-accumulators, six Warp Cores and a half-dozen exotic power plants, making it unparalleled in performance. Despite this impression hardware, there were a few setbacks. The Inertialess drive, the primary propulsion technology in Kinnison's universe had been unsuccessfully reconstructed. As smart as a Lensman was, he could not now, or ever grasp its mechanics. Men, possessed by Arisian super-beings had developed it in his own Universe, often known as the Berg, or the Bergenholm Drive. It allowed a vessel to shed its mass, enabling it to travel beyond the speed of light, with instant acceleration or deceleration. Beyond this was the hyperspace tube, the ultimate method of spatial or dimensional travel. It was this critical technology still so distant from becoming functional. Kinnison _knew_ that only an Arisian could master its properties, much like they did when Ploor, the nexus of the Boskone organization was obliterated by Nth space planets by way of hypertube. Connecting one dimension or universe to another, entire planets, ships, and fleets could move great distances. This technology was essential if he was ever to return to his home, wherever that may be. He often thought of the trap the Ploorians had set for him, the 'maelstrom,' an enormous hyperspace tube that he had entered. Hundreds of millions, perhaps billions of universes had flashed past; incalculable speed was obtained within the tube. _Amazing that the Ploorians had developed such propulsion, something was pushing me…_

Kinnison shook his head to concentrate, _That damn Dalek._ As mentioned previously, the mission had failed miserably. Lt. Commander Gulliver, the Lensman's carefully crafted Starfleet identity had been 'killed' in the line of duty defending a Council Member from an attempted assassination by a Changeling. This event allowed for his permanent disappearance.

What set the Dalek assassination plan into motion was the total loss of contact with Sloan after his departure from Earth. The agreement to help the Dalek rebuild its shell was troubling, but there was no way for Kinnison to monitor this without leaving Earth and heading toward Bakersfield. He knew how powerful the Dalek's could be from the images and knowledge derived from the mind of Cienna, and that their potential for massive destruction was incalculable, _but this is just a single Dalek, could it communicate with others? Were they all dead?_ Kimbal Kinnison's goal was either destruction or at the least telepathic control of the Dalek. The secret ship had been launched, the Dauntless it was so named moved towards the secret Section 31 base on the edge of Federation space. It used three different forms of cloaking devices; he had been confident that the ship was undetectable. Upon arriving at Bakerfield, and to the utter dismay of Kinnison, the base had vanished. The Dauntless had searched and scanned for any indication of Bakerfield's whereabouts, but it was ultimately fruitless. There was no trace, no clues, not even the faintest vibration of spatial ether. Kinnison knew then that this was potentially catastrophic, and that many moving parts had to begin to turn together in earnest. Sloan was still alive, but he was out of reach telepathically. Based on various intercepted conference calls with the admiralty, Sloan's return to Earth was certain, but not for some time. A new plan had to be set in motion.

First and foremost, the immediate search for the missing Dalek and Bakerfield facility. This would only be accomplished if there was a cessation of the rapid Imperial progress in their clandestine effort to overthrow the Galaxy. Resources soon to be squandered in a useless war must be preserved. From what Kinnison knew of the plan, the Federation did not stand a chance without help. From what he gathered from the hundreds of minds he had read, a major conflict was on the immediate horizon. From the knowledge obtained from their minds, Kinnison knew the war will be lost. Then, just before the Federation signs a peace treaty, a complete overthrow of the ruling governments by way of Changeling infiltrators would ensure long-lasting dominance and loyalty to the Empire. How long this would ultimately last Kinnison could not be sure, for the Empire had blackmailed the Founders by way of overwhelming force.

From the minds of the Changelings, Kinnison felt he had witnessed the event in real time. Seven or so months ago an enormous Imperial fleet had arrived over the Founders Homeworld and began an orbital bombardment into the "Great Link;" a planetary globular body of liquid Changelings. Millions had died in the opening volley, with a few million more surviving the assault. It was impossible for them to escape, the never-ending probe droids keeping a constant watch on their planet. A Dominion fleet had attempted to escort large swaths of the Great Link off-world, but it was intercepted and obliterated. The Changelings were trapped, and they knew it. There was no defense against such overwhelming intelligence gathering and military might. For now, the Changelings had to obey, and obey they did. The many Bounty Hunters that appeared across Earth were just another level of infiltration and information gathering. As far as Kinnison could tell it was working. He was seeing strange patterns arise with policy and procedural management coming from other branches and sectors of the Federation beyond his gaze; he was just one man, there were only so many places he could be.

His scope of the larger conflict while more diverse than any human was still limited. Events unfolding could be cataloged in real time, but the reasons and motives behind such events remained a great mystery. Multiple vantage points from the minds at Starfleet headquarters certainly allowed for greater insight, but Kinnison could not read the thoughts of bounty hunters and Changelings that he knew were on other worlds. He could not be everywhere, or reach everyone. Kinnison did note the social disruption was taking hold, arrests had skyrocketed two-hundred percent in less than five months and junior politicians from all over were hurriedly trying to sway voters to their cause. Rumors were swirling about private industry gaining a foothold in the Romulan Empire, a curious development. _The Changelings are infiltrating everyone in the Alpha Quadrant but why private enterprise? Why capitalism? How does that help?_ And if not for a great many concerns related to Section 31 and their Dalek pet, or Imperial ambitions, these other circumstances would be worth investigating. There was however one instance where Kinnison did have to take a hard look, a brief trip to Andoria, a Federation world, to check on a very vocal mayor.

Val-Klaxin, an industrial city home to a million Andorian citizens tasked with the assembly of Starfleet warp cores for many vessel classes. While the technology of the cores had changed over the last hundred years, the labor and manufacturing economics of the city had not. Val-Klaxin represented a critical manufacturing hub for the Federation and had been fulfilling its duty unabated for over a century. Strange permutations began to seep into the political landscape a little over three months ago. A newly elected mayor, Ubino, began to question the arrangement openly. At first this was little more than a discussion among his supporters, but more recently he was met with thunderous applause as he publicly questioned the deployment of specific Federation fleets. Ubino went so far as to suggest Starfleet command was purposefully prioritizing the lives of humans over the lives of Andorians. This ludicrous accusation was of course shot down by the ruling Andorian ministers and finally their Federation Council-elect, but it did little to sway the growing dissident among the population. Ubino was positioning himself to be put on the minister's ballot within the next few years, giving way to a possible Federation Council member seat within a decade. Kinnison had considered this, and much more as he read Ubino's mind from end to end. This Andorian quested for power and control, he was not unlike other politicians. What set him apart from his peers was his unwavering belief in his people's injustice. Within the Andorian mayor's mind there were no grafts, stitchings or any other traits of brainwashing or telepathic manipulation. _Only an Arisian could do this undetected, and there are none here...Ubino must believe this nonsense,_ Kinnison had thought as his investigation came to a close.

Regarding the Arisian super-beings responsible for creating the Lensman and helping humanity and the Galactic Patrol destroy Boskone, Kinnison was now convinced of one thing. The Dalek temporal weapon was the cause of Mentor's, or any other Arisians non-presence in the Milky Way universe. His theory was correct. The Arisian mind could effortlessly move from dimension to dimension or universe to universe. Now though, due to the temporal time destruction, no thought, neither Arisian or Q could pass until the winds subsided. Kinnison knew he would someday return to his home Universe, but that time was in the future, and so he focused on the present. _A Lensman always goes in._

Towards the front of the space convoy, he saw the engine flare of the lead bounty hunter ship flair to life and move towards the wormhole horizon. The time for 'first contact' was approaching. He knew that returning mechanically through the wormhole was but a certainty, the problem arose with 'thought.' Unsure of when he was to return, his next actions had to be accomplished now before it was too late. Kinnison flicked a few buttons to give autonomous flight to the Dauntless running in ultra-quiet a few hundred meters off his port bow. He was sure that no one had detected it, he had scanned the minds of every Bounty Hunter just to be sure. His secret ship would follow them through the wormhole and into the Imperial Galaxy, where it would assist him with his mission, to deliver a blow to the Empire, _and perhaps more…_

Kinnison took a deep breath and closed his eyes, _first contact...here it goes…_

With a tremendous mental surge, he pushed his mind through the void of space. This was not an intrusive 'scan' or telepathic control, where distance was measured in kilometers, but a 'call' where boundaries within a defined Universe had no meaning.

"Captain Kirk…. Captain Kirk, this is Kimball Kinnison, Second Stage Lensman of the Galactic Patrol." Then Silence. Kinnison waited, and while the speed of thought was instantaneous, often the recipient of the mental jolt took a moment to regain their bearings,

"This is James Kirk, what is it that you want?" Came the mental voice of the confused, but coherent Captain.

Kinnison smiled and pushed deeper, his thoughts were now overlapping with his favorite Starfleet officer.

"Captain Kirk, there is so much you do not know, your society is in grave danger,"

"Who are you? What do you want? _**Where**_ are you?" Kirk began peppering Kinnison with questions. On past missions Kirk had been subjected to telepathic intrusiveness and was no stranger to trickery and deception.

"I need to show you, open your mind, and we will begin slowly," Kinnison began pushing his thoughts through the massive emptiness of space, everything that he was and knew was being slowly poured into the mind of the Captain. Then, it stopped, like a trap door slamming shut, Kirk was unsure.

"How can I trust you? There are many powerful telepathic beings in this galaxy…"

"Captain, come into my mind, you will see that everything is true, there is no deception here." And like a parent helping a small child cross a river-brook, he held out his 'hand' and allowed for safe passage. After several seconds Kirk initiated the mind merge, like someone drinking from a cup of hot tea, first a sip to test the temperature, and if satisfactory, a gulp.

 _His mind is extraordinary..._ Thought Kinnison in his highly compartmentalized brain, _Kirk has the mind of a Lensman, what power! He has just not been shown to use it..._ After several long minutes, information now moving both ways was being considered and evaluated. The conversation between Picard and Q was now known to Kinnison, along with the battle of DS9 between the Federation, Colonists, and Dominion. The journey from Bakerfield to the Imperial wormhole had taken over a week, and so it had not been possible to stay current on events. The war had begun.

"Lensman. I had no idea... we are facing two fronts. One an immediate military threat, the other, an unknown but far greater danger. Can, or...will...you help us?"

Kinnison smiled,

"See now Kirk everything I plan on doing, but only a select few can know of my existence. You must be creative as to how to educate the others, especially the Federation Council. Be wary, as you now know, Section 31 may be working with the Dalek. I cannot be sure." More thoughts were pushed across space and the entire picture was becoming clear to Kirk. There were of course still missing pieces, but those 'gaps' were also missing from Kinnison. Ideas and strategies were shared at the speed of thought; detailed plans were made, debated, and reshaped again. "You must rally the Federation and her allies, hopefully, if I am successful the Empire will no longer be a threat. Before I go, did Starfleet send you the information on the exact weapons the Colonists used at the battle of DS9?"

"Only what was recorded by the Starfleet ships, this is everything that we know,"

Kinnison absorbed as much as possible, he was reading the battle report as if he was looking at it in person,

"When I return from the Imperial Galaxy, I must have the exact details of those weapons, they seem out of place."

"Many things are out of place, Lensman." Kirk's smile could be felt through the wonders of 'thought,' "Good luck."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant**

Four transporter beams shimmered into view within the ruins of a once thriving but long-extinct civilization. Captain Kirk, Spock, Mccoy and Cienna had transported down to the mysterious planet's surface, a lifeless rock stretching across all horizons. The crew had been here before, over eighty years ago they had stumbled upon the sole inhabitant. Kirk had hoped to gain knowledge that the Metron's lacked, and with Kinnison's communication less than an hour ago, time was critical. The Captain had known there was trouble on the horizon, everyone with a pulse new the war with the Dominion was terrible news. But no one, not the President of the Federation, or any of his cabinet and Admirals could sense the scale and magnitude of the danger. Kirk had shared this information with McCoy, Spock and Cienna. He needed them to know, to help him make decisions and to analyze the entire situation. This last stop was hopefully the culmination of his information gathering efforts before heading back towards Federation space. Necessary information had already been sent to Starfleet Command by way of reverse engineered components of the fully intact probe droid that the Metron's had gifted the Enterprise. More information would need to be sent soon, _but what? Which pieces to send? Kinnison could not be revealed, especially to the Dalek, he was far more important as a 'surprise' super-weapon, working invisibly...right in front of us... this new and strikingly important information regarding the Dalek and Empire would need to be relayed carefully and deliberately, Section 31 nor the Imperials could be tipped off... Certainly everything would be shared with the Metron's, they needed to know that the Dalek was here, and it was now missing.._. _perhaps their threat assessment would change..._ Kirk cleared his head, turning his attention to the towering structure before him.

"Captain Kirk, you have returned," boomed the voice of the Guardian of Forever. It looked the same as he had remembered. Placed in the center of ancient ruins, the glowing, throbbing 'thing' was alive. Not machine, not animal, but a mysterious entity connected to the past, and perhaps more.

"Guardian, we seek...answers to our questions," Kirk stepped forward with his companions, his hands facing out, pleading, rather than asking. "Our society is in grave danger, a greater danger than it has ever faced."

"This I know Captain, although the ultimate outcome is unimportant to me," it said flatly.

McCoy's face flushed with anger, and in typical fashion, he lashed out,

"How can you stand there, looking through time, looking through our history, and not care about us?! How can you know so much, and care so little?" Kirk looked back and smiled at his friend, _politics and diplomacy be damned...a doctor first._

Before the Guardian could respond, Kirk pressed onward,

"When we were last here Guardian, you said to me... that you could be our guide. That you could help us explore time. Well...we are here now. We need to explore time. We need to explore possibilities."

"What is it that you wish to explore Captain Kirk."

Cienna cut in, her ability to articulate specific questions was critical if they were to obtain that which they desperately required.

"We wish to explore the cause, and effects of the temporal disruptions. Is the damage caused by the Dalek Time Destroyer permanent? We need to know what we can do to prevent the arrival of a Dalek, and we need to know the cause of a wormhole on the other side of the galaxy." For the next hour, the away-team and Guardian discussed who the Dalek is, and why it represented such an existential threat. Ideas were exchanged but as the conversation progressed the away-team became more frustrated, except for Spock, who merely found it 'fascinating.' A single 'master' plan was impossible to solve all problems; there were too many layers of danger surrounding the Federation and other Alpha Quadrant races.

"Guardian, can you show us the exact time when the Dalek Time Destroyer was detonated, relative to this temporal-plane?" Asked Cienna.

"As before, as is now, I am only permitted to give access to certain times at certain speeds, at certain intervals. My connection to the past is like a sea ship's anchor, which you are familiar. No amount of temporal interference can break my link. I am still connected, allow me to demonstrate." The center of the archway bloomed with light and as before, events from thousands of years past were flashing across the screen, or in this case, doorway.

"We don't need to see it. We need to **know** it. We need to know. We require answers. With your knowledge Guardian, can we...somehow stop the Dalek from crossing into our Universe?" asked Kirk disjointedly.

"Stopping it is not possible, even with me as your guide, it is impossible. For now, the temporal waves have blocked my ability to scan its universe of origin, I would not be able to locate it. I would be unable to point you in the right direction even if you could find another method of travel."

"Let's talk about that wormhole then on the other side of the galaxy. Another Captain, has told me it may have been opened by beings known as Q's...are you familiar?"

"I am familiar,"

"Is it possible then?"

"It is possible,"

Kirk's brain was cycling through all the information he had received from Kinnison, there was so much to contemplate.

"Guardian, as we have explained...we have threats on all sides, even threats within our own ranks, do you have any suggestions? Is there something we can do in our own timeline?" The Captain was starting to feel like they were running out of options, without the ability to stop the Dalek, which was his chief concern, they might have to change the past. _To change the future…_

"I have one, but it is not permitted."

"Explain?"

"Your creators can be reached, long ago, before there were stars and galaxies. I am tied to this timeline, but not permitted to show you. They and they alone would have a vested interest in saving you."

 _What?! Our creators?_ Kirk was shocked.

"Our...creators?"

"The ones who created me, are the same as the ones who created you. They are gone now."

"Why is it not permitted?" Kirk looked back at McCoy for guidance whose eyes were as large as saucers. This was uncharted territory, religion, faith, science, all mixing and coming together in this revelation.

Bones walked up to Jim and grabbed his arm and looked him dead in the eye,

"Jim...are we ready for this? And I don't mean us, here. I mean all of us, everywhere. Are we really going to try and call for help? To god knows somewhere or someplace. Besides, the last time we came here, our actions changed the entire galaxy, by accident!"

Kirk put a hand on his friend's shoulder and said nothing for several long seconds.

"Bones, do we have a choice?"

"There is always a choice!" hissed McCoy.

"The choice is to live, or...to die."

"But who lives?! And who dies Jim?!"

"Us Doctor! We live! We survive!" Shouted Kirk right back. He was about to yell again when he stopped himself. He let go of his friend's shoulder and stepped away to think, _no...that's wrong…_

 _"_ You're right Bones...it's not **if** we live, it's **how** we live, **how**... we survive."

"Doctor McCoy, Captain Kirk, your fear is not justified," said the Guardian. "It is not permitted. Our Creator's abandoned time travel as they saw the dangers of its potential abuse. I am not permitted to show you this period."

Spock and Cienna moved closer and the four made a small circle to discuss the situation. Cienna was intensely addressing time travel and consequence of action, or even inaction, this, the Enterprise crew knew all too well. Anything changed in the past would reverberate forward, potentially changing everything for the worse, and the further back one goes, the stronger the reverberation.

Kirk turned around to ask a question,

"Guardian, if we call for help, if we speak with them, will it change our present?"

"It is not permitted."

"Let us suppose for a moment that it was,"

"There would be no time disruptions, only the help you desire."

After several minutes of private debate, Spock broke from the group and faced the gate,

"Guardian, when last we were here, you said you were neither animal nor machine. I have a proposal that will allow you to see into our minds. Perhaps then you could permit this communication with these so-called creators? It is logical that you cannot fully appreciate our situation without reading our thoughts. It is evident the Creators wanted us to think, to feel, and to learn. Let my mind merge with yours, and through that you may read not only my thoughts, but that of the good Doctor, the Captain and Cienna."

There was a long silence as the great 'machine' considered this proposal, small lights flickered beneath its surface and strange noises emanated outward.

"It is permitted."

Gently, and deliberately, Spock placed his hand on the frame of the Guardian. His other on the temple of Captain Kirk, who made a chain from one temple to another until so all four were connected. After a long minute, Spock removed his hand and opened his eyes; the mind meld had been successful. Knowledge had only moved in one direction but as the next few seconds proved, it was enough to convince the Guardian that action must be taken.

"I now understand. Your minds are fragile, but through them I could perceive what you believe to be suffering and death. I will permit it but this one time. Captain Kirk, place your hand upon my frame, and time will begin to move back within the portal." As promised time began to move in reverse instead of forwards as traditionally seen through the doorway. The group looked on in amazement as the history of Earth played in reverse. Humanities accomplishments disappearing and replaced by thick, lush, forest. Further back it regressed, now a bubbling liquid surface of magma and toxic gases. More minutes passed until the Earth phased away, now just a young sun. Sol's star with no planets eventually faded into its birthing vortex and then disappeared. For what seemed like several minutes, there was only blackness, until,

"What am I seeing Guardian?"

"It is your creators Captain Kirk." Within the misty doorway were faint flickers, in what otherwise was complete and utter blackness. "You may communicate with them, use your mind, I will be your vessel."

 _Creators, this is James T. Kirk, representing the United Federation of Planets._ The Captain was about to send another thought but stopped, he felt something inside his head. Not at all the same sensation he had experienced with Kinnison, this was a presence without a body, like a fog within his mind.

 _-Do you carry the Mantle of Responsibility James?-_

 _I am sorry creator, I have not heard that term before, we seek your help,_

 _-Do you seek the Mantle of Responsibility James?-_

 _What I seek is peace, to help others, to discover new life and new civilizations. We are in desperate need. We the human race, along with others are in mortal danger, we are calling for help,_

 _-Do you seek power?-_

 _We seek only to live, to prosper, and to be at peace_

A tremendous bolt of energy leaped from the Guardian of Forever and all four members of the away team found themselves flat on their backs. Where it once stood, now only a man wearing a Starfleet Admiral's uniform, it was Q.

"Who are you? Where is the Guardian." Shouted McCoy as he dusted himself off and helped his comrades to their feet. Q for the first time looked stressed, his arms were folded and if one weren't so observant, may not have noticed his skin was slightly flush with anger.

"Do you have any idea what you're meddling child-hands have gotten into?" He said hotly as he began to pace, beneath him the smoldering ruin of the Guardian of Forever.

"Q," said Kirk firmly. He knew, or at least thought he knew from the Starfleet records and recent conversation with Picard. "What have you done with Guardian, what do you want with us? Is it you who has done all this? Have you created this giant mess we find ourselves facing?"

"Jimbo, I know that you love asking questions, and being the hero, but you can't possibly understand all the wonderful facets of this universe. They, the ones the Guardian referred to as humanity's creators, are off limits, it's cheating,"

Kirk's keen eyes were like lasers as he thought it all over,

"Why? Are they...our creators? Can they help us?"

"With your little stunt, you may find out,"

"Do you know them?"

Q stopped pacing and shot Kirk a look of annoyance before continuing on.

"Jim-boy, we know everyone. They died off a long time ago...killed actually, by their creations, ironic. What matters now is the Guardian is gone, but I'm warning you, don't try anything like that again. You are far braver than Picard, that I can say...a real risk taker, although, I already knew that."

"Q," Kirk took a calmer approach, hoping to address some unanswerable questions, "...Q...can you stop this? You must see what is going to happen. The Dalek that came through... we can't find it…"

Q took a moment and eyed the Captain carefully,

"Yes, I know. It would be a shame if you didn't."

Interjected Cienna, grave concern evident in her voice.

"The Dalek's can be a threat even to you, you must see that. They had a plan during the Time War to bring those things through the gate, the ones in the book, even you are in danger."

"Nothing is a threat to the Q, not your tin-robot masters, or fairy tales from a superstitious book. We are omnipotent, do you not understand? We are above all time and reality, don't you see? I suppose I am asking too much for you to understand."

"They are not superstitious, they are real, they are, in fact right now, talking to our friend, on the Enterprise! Look into his mind, and you will see. I was supposed to help summon them! Do you-" Cienna was cut off,

"Were you to summon Jesus as well?" snickered Q. "Was...was I taking a nap for a few thousand years?" looking around mockingly. "What year is this? Do you seriously believe words and spells can open the secrets of the cosmos? Even you, Cienna, who is, I admit, smarter than your average human, cannot possibly believe such drivel. Your plunger-pots were wrong, that is why they had a Time Destroyer, it was all an elaborate ploy."

"Then what's in 'John's' head?" Asked the Captain. To his surprise, he saw, or believed he saw, for the quickest of moments, a slight twitch on the god-humans face.

"Captain. He. Is. Insane. I have looked."

"Alright Q, enough games. Why didn't you stop us before we came to this planet? Why didn't you come earlier? Why didn't you know we were going to communicate with our creators? If they are off limits, why allow it?"

"Dear Captain, I have an IQ of two-thousand and five, I do not need to explain my actions to you."

"I see. But. Why not an IQ of two-thousand and six?"

Q's arrogant expression changed, his eyebrows furrowing for an almost unnoticeable moment.

"What?"

"You know...Q. The universe continues on...and on...and on...and so do other universes, and other dimensions...so on and so forth up to infinity."

"Yes yes, of course, we have been to all of them, what is your point."

"Just curious if there is something out there with an IQ of two-thousand and six, or...twenty-thousand and six. Imagine." Kirk moved forward another few steps, "...just imagine what they would know..."

"Captain, I could atomize you and your entire ship, or send you off to the furthest corner of the universe-"

"Of course you could! But. You would still _only_ have an IQ of two-thousand and five."

Spock now stood beside his Captain,

"Your statement is illogical. With infinite space, there then would be infinite information, which would then require an infinite mind to truly know and master. It is then by your own admission that you are not all powerful, or all knowing."

"Oh Mr. Spock, how delightful that you try and equate your basic understanding of logic to my existence."

"What gives you the right to do this, if it is you, stop it! There are billions of lives at stake, maybe more."

"My power, my position in this universe, gives me every right Doctor. Time for you to run along, there is nothing left for you here. Besides, don't you have a war to fight? Stop hiding like cowards and start fighting! Everyone is dying while you're running off searching for miracles. " Q snapped his fingers and the four returned to the Enterprise in orbit. Now, the self-declared omnipotent being stood alone on the forbidden world, thinking. The Continuum had discovered, more than likely before any other, that the disturbances in the temporal winds was due to the Dalek superweapon. _There was no direct danger_ the Continuum had decided, but their ability to see through time and dimension was still blocked. They had calculated the temporal waves would dissipate within the next few years and all would be restored. There was even talk of visiting the Dalek home Universe and changing the past so that the temporal weapon was never activated.

A flash of light a few meters away gave-way to another Q, a woman, she stood looking at her equal.

"So, Q, what is bothering you?"

"I looked inside the mind of the tortured soldier, he knows of the Ultimate Gate, how can that be? That was our fantasy, when we were young, before we were Omnipotent. How can an insect dream the same dream as a god?" She did not answer. "Could we have been wrong? Have we lost our contact with those visions, not because they were fantasy, but because we can no longer dream? No longer wonder?" he took a long moment and looked back, way back to when he was young, when he used to dream, "... Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate-"

"...past, present, future, all are one with Yog-Sothoth." she finished his sentence for him. Male-Q turned slowly towards her before she continued. "The Continuum wants the test to come to its natural conclusion, time to return," she flashed away without another word.

Q stood alone once again, thinking, contemplating current and past events. For the first time in his long life, he felt 'uneasy' if such a feeling were possible for a being like he. Kirk's mockery had to his surprise, affected him. _Was it possible that there were aspects of existence the Continuum did not understand?_ He dwelt on this problem for a few seconds longer before reaching his conclusion, _no of course not, we have observed countless realities and dimensions, there are no mysteries, no realms we cannot go, no place we cannot see. If Yog-Sothoth and those beyond the Ultimate Gate existed, we would know, we would see it, feel it, visit it, control it._ Q pushed aside these foolish thoughts and considered the future.

 _Our_ ' _brothers' may return._ Q took a deep, but unnecessary breath, and looked around at the landscape. His eyes peering 'into' the very rock, the substance of reality. He had not seen them for billions of years, those who were once considered 'equal' to the mortal Q. The Captain in his brazen had reached out, _remarkable for a human,_

Deeper and deeper his vision bore, past individual molecules and elemental particles, past the universal ether of Plancks, and cosmic mist, still nothing. _You chose to stay mortal and died for that choice!_ Q shook his head to clear his thoughts, and while the physical representation did not need to do this, what his mind thought, his 'fake' body portrayed. Again Q peered into reality, deep beneath what you, the reader would consider 'real,' down deep into the Universe in search of a sign, but nothing, yet.

 _Very well Precursors, time will tell._


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Plans Beget Plans

 **Milky Way - Galactic Rim**

If an analogy could be used to best describe the operating environment in which Thrawn's fleet of star destroyers operated, it would be ancient humanities submarine warfare. Silent and utterly brutal; they waited, potent and deadly. Parked thousands of light years beyond the Milky Way's galactic rim, the fleet waiting to be called upon for blitzkrieg attacks. Both Thrawn and Piett's fleets had raided, pummeled, and obliterated their designated targets with deadly efficiency for eight months; the latest, a nonconforming alien race within the Delta Quadrant. They had, somehow, discovered the Imperial campaign and wished to join it. Instead of discussion, they were quickly and mercilessly exterminated. No one could live to tell, no one could know of their exact plans, or identity.

At present, Thrawn sat in his immense 'planning room,' packed wall to wall with charts, graphs, artwork, poems, and many other less visible details of the Milky Way natives. Numbers and maps were not enough; one had to know their enemy, their history and culture. He wished to know their souls. Hours upon hours were spent reading their poetry, listening to their music and viewing their artwork. His desk consisted of a thirty-foot half-circle, with a dozen monitors flashing crucial information concerning galactic takeover. Beyond the giant windows, was the swirling galaxy, its billions of stars and planets in complete ignorance of their presence. Accompanying the Grand Admiral was the assembled fleet command along with Piett and his senior officers. Scattered among them sat Analyst Commanders who helped sift through the ungodly amount of information endlessly collected day in and day out.

At present, Thrawn enjoyed lecturing them on current events and strategy,

"I want to thank each and every one of you for the excellent work during this long and sometimes stressful campaign. As you can see here," a large 3D galactic map appearing overhead, "...the Borg have been vanquished from this Galaxy. Only small pockets remain, they are a shadow of their former selves. Our plan was well thought-out and executed precisely. For thousands of years they dominated the Delta Quadrant, and yet, in only a few short months they are nothing more than common house pests, scouring about, desperate, alone, and ultimately doomed."

An Analyst Commander raised his hand to ask a question,

"Grand Admiral, what are your thoughts on the recent Borg activity in the Beta Quadrant, they have become very efficient at stopping our probe droids. Their precise location is now hard to determine... our last operation failed to intercept the Cubes before they escaped to Warp. The Borg are now able to detect our incoming ships, and they jump to warp before we exit into real space. It is becoming harder to isolate them."

Thrawn nodded along as the question was asked, he believed in open discussion, allowing his staff to discuss and debate the strategy. More than accepted, he welcomed it. Discovering years ago that a healthy educated team performed far above those always working in fear.

"Thank you for the question Commander Krill. How many total Borg vessels do you believe there are in the Beta Quadrant at this present time?"

"We estimate no more than one hundred ships, maybe half that in the Delta... but we have been unable to destroy them. Their tactics have changed, drastically." Krill gulped a little as the last part of the sentence squeezed out. He did not want to take the blame for those few remaining ships. "They have also abandoned their assimilation tactics, they are no longer trying to grow their fleet...they seem content with evading and surviving."

Thrawn pushed a few buttons and the most recent probe data appeared on the closest monitor. He studied it intently for several minutes; no one dared say a word while the Grand Admiral worked the problem over.

"They alone are no threat to our plans, no threat to our ships and no threat to the Empire at large. Their change in tactics is an indication of their abandonment of the Collective. I do believe and so do many of our analysts that they are thinking as individuals. Individuals can be corrupted, they can be bribed, twisted, but, ultimately, they wish to survive." Thrawn rubbed his chin and then looked over at one of his commanders, "Send word to the Devonshire, have them equip for a diplomatic mission, remove all armament." The assembled officers looked at one another in surprise, "If they wish to survive so be it, we will create a ceasefire which will free up our fleets for the final invasion."

Piett stepped forward,

"Sir, I meant to ask you about that, what of our plans with the Federation? The DS9 wormhole is guarded with self-replicating mines."

"Great question Admiral." Thrawn slowly walked the room, both hands clasped firmly behind his back. This was his element, dictating well-thought strategy to those whom may not fully grasp its genius. "Firstly, it seems the Cardassian Forces along with current AQ Dominion forces are inflicting a considerable toll upon the Klingon Empire. What we would call tactical retreats, they consider cowardly. What we consider surprise attacks, they consider dishonorable. The Emperor has made it clear to us, we must absorb humanity, and any other species that we think would submit to our rule. The Klingons are not one of these species. They will never yield, never surrender, never give up. They will naturally fight and die until all are dead. So be it. With each passing week, we move closer to the Klingon Homeworld, there we will turn the surface to ash. By my calculations, in less than six weeks, every Klingon will be dead. Not a single one left alive. Next..." continued the Grand Admiral, checking for dust along the surface of his desk with his index finger. He stopped mid-sentence as he inspected for any errand particles. "...we knew from the beginning that the Dominion forces would need to be destroyed, either by us or by a more natural opposition. The self-replicating mines the Federation has managed to install at the entrance to the wormhole will be that instrument. Very clever of the Federation to develop these mines, from what our operators are telling us, they came from Starfleet Intelligence. We do not know how many self-replication cycles each can accomplish, but we will find out. Any comments? Questions so far?"

Commander Cheevers, a sputtering mess, stood to ask a question,

"Grand Admiral, can you tell us about the raider attack upon the Gamma Quadrant Dominion forces a few weeks ago?"

"Great question Commander. As everyone now knows, the colonists from Epilus who Darth Maul and Boba Fett had tricked, launched a simultaneous attack against the wormhole blockade at DS9 and a few outlying Cardassian bases. They forced the Federation's hand which played perfectly into ours. Our original plan was to have a few dozen Dominion cruisers traverse the DS9 wormhole and backup the Alpha Quadrant fleet. Remember men, we did not want to utterly crush the Federation. Granted, we did want to secure the wormhole, but just barely. They would have no choice but to send an even larger armada, allowing us to crush them in a single battle. It is unfortunate that a fleet of raiders attacked the Dominion cruisers on the Gamma Quadrant side of the wormhole before they could move to assist the AQ forces." Thrawn paused for effect before continuing. "I have been studying this situation intently, thanks to information provided by you, and your teams. The raiders originated from several systems within Dominion space, and it appears they are being sponsored by local and regional governments on Dominion held planets. Our probes have not yet located their base of operation, but we will, and we will destroy it. I have already sent word to the Founders, any hint of rebellion will be crushed immediately."

Cheevers gulped and asked another painful question.

"Sir, we are still waiting for your decision, but, I would like to address it again. What of the new technology Starfleet is rolling out to detect Changelings? My team has recommended we pull them out. Our operators and Changelings are no longer able to delay its implementation."

"Yes," said Thrawn knowingly. "I am in agreement, but there is one final task for them to perform. Commander Yilos, how many from the Betazoid species currently serve in Starfleet?"

"About forty sir,"

"I see, and how many live on other planets besides Betazed?"

"No more than a few thousand Grand Admiral."

Thrawn let a small, thin, smile creep along his face, _time for the next phase..._

"Inform our operators and Changelings to kill them all. Let me be clear, when your team organizes this, it must be done in unison. Across all planets and ships. No telepath loyal to the Federation can be left alive when we reveal ourselves. I estimate our Dominion puppets will reach Betazed within a few weeks, where they will turn the surface to slag. Let me remind you, once this occurs the Federation will be reeling. They have never in their history been subjected to such destruction. Our destabilization efforts have caused havoc in their council chambers and within the Presidential assembly. Some member worlds even now are considering abandoning the alliance and seeking peace by other methods. But... " Thrawn raised a long, delicate finger into the air, "...the Federation must break, we must break their backs. For when we arrive to eradicate the Dominion with our own forces, we will be saviors, not conquerors. The Federation, smashed into many smaller pieces will flock to us, their fleets destroyed and industrial centers in ruin, we, the Empire can restore them. We can bring them protection, technology and wealth. You see gentlemen, to those in the Milky Way, love, compassion, and respect is far more powerful than fear. We will have their respect, their love, their admiration, their loyalty..." Thrawn was now standing taller than ever, "...we will annihilate the Dominion forces within a few days, and they, the remnants of the Federation will watch. They will watch as we bring them liberty." Every officer in the giant room looked around at one another with a sense of pride and purpose never before instilled among them. This campaign was ruthless, brilliant and flawless. The Federation was hopelessly outmatched, and the Empire knew it. _There is no possible way for them to know about us,_ was the resounding thought within the room. "There are however, issues to resolve, no plan can go without changes, we cannot get ahead of ourselves. We must maintain our secrecy, what is the latest on Starfleet's analysis of our intact probe droid?"

"Sir, Changelings reporting that primary communication has been compromised, they know what we are transmitting, but they cannot isolate the signal destination. All broadcasts maintain omnidirectional waves. As far as they know, the probes are just monitoring everything, all information. It would be impossible for them to associate the probes with the Dominion forces."

"I see," Thrawn did not like the fact that their information flow could be monitored, but there was little that could be done about that now. "And what of the missing Federation base?"

"We have been unable to locate it, we...well, we do not understand its relationship with Starfleet. There is no record of it, no mention of it. We are unsure of what to think of it. We will locate it." S _trange,_ thought Thrawn, _one small base among the millions in the galaxy is insignificant, but still...if they have developed a cloaking device, why install it on an outpost with no weapons, and seemingly no use..._

Piett was standing still, looking over a few reports in detail, something was bothering him,

"Grand Admiral, if I were to be so bold, there is a risk from the Metrons. They provided the intact probe droid, it is possible they have also shared other information, not spread within the Starfleet network."

"I have considered this Admiral Piett, I believe it is a Captain James T. Kirk who made contact. If the Metrons do indeed know who we are, and that knowledge was shared with our dear Captain Kirk, it has not been shared with the broader alliance. He must be captured and questioned." Thrawn pulled up a few more displays and began reading the personnel file of the famous Starfleet Captain. Thrawn was silent for a good ten minutes while he absorbed all the information until finally, he broke the silence by switching off the monitor with a heavy fist. "He...has the others with him..." A look of confusion swept the Grand Admiral's face, he stood and looked out the large window encompassing the room. "...the two beings that came out of the spatial anomalies are on his ship, why…" Thrawn turned back to his staff, "Why! Why was I not told of this?"

The room collectively gulped before a low ranking Commander raised his hand,

"Sir...there is so much information coming from our operatives, and probe droids, we... I... I...didn't think it was necessary. We filtered that out a few levels before it came to your desk."

Thrawn closed his eyes and breathed slowly; his rage was building up within him, _this fool, this utter fool._ The room was silent for the next thirty minutes as log after log was displayed related to the Enterprise's activities. _There it is…_

"According to our Changeling operator, the Captain requested to take both Cienna and John with him in the hopes of discovering the truth about the time warp and any possible connection to a race known as the Dalek's. Apparently they are all dead, or believed dead. It seems no one is sure... curious…"

The door's hissed open and a young Captain hurried into the room,

"Excuse the intrusion Grand Admiral. Lord Vader's shuttle is approaching."

 _What?! Vader? Here?!_ Thrawn was expressionless, but inside he was nervous, _unscheduled visits are never desirable._

"Clear the room."

Not long after the doors hissed open and in strode the Dark Lord, his black cape flowing behind him like water. He walked right up to the desk and placed his hands on his belt buckle, even through the helmet, Thrawn felt his gaze.

"Grand Admiral."

Thrawn stood up and bowed slightly,

"Lord Vader, how can I be of service."

"I am here to discuss the campaign, to determine if you are indeed on schedule."

"Lord Vader, I send reports to Imperial High Command frequently, I assure-"

"Spare me your overly optimistic appraisal Grand Admiral. What dangers do you perceive."

Thrawn was irked by the question, to suggest he was not competent enough to analyze the situation was insulting.

"My Lord, the campaign is on schedule, the Borg have been destroyed, many large alliances throughout the galaxy have been broken or swept away. Only the Alpha Quadrant remains as an unconquered element. The Dominion will be taking care of that shortly."

"There is a danger," barked Vader, his accusatory finger pointing at Thrawn's face. "Find it."

Thrawn did not dare show any anger on his face, but he was full of it. It was boiling, bubbling beneath his collar. Vader continued, uncaring of what his Grand Admiral thought,

"There has been an unanticipated delay in the final construction of the new Deathstar. Technology to propel the super-laser into hyperspace is on schedule, but our manufacturing of specialized equipment is now on hold, I will let you read the report." Vader raised a hand and a few switches flickered across the room as a new log loaded into the computer system. Thrawn eyed the event uneasily, he did not understand the Force, nor did he trust it. Something that could not be scientifically or statistically analyzed was unnatural, _it is repugnant._

 **Kuat Drive Yards**

- **Probe Production, 723,523 Units per 30 days**

- **Star Destroyer, Imperial Class**

- **6 ready within 30 days**

 **-Tie Fighters, 234 Units per 30 days**

 **-614 Bounty Hunters on 30-day rotation**

 **Galaxy-Wide Bounty Hunter Recruitment**

 **-1,300 more recruited, training, familiarization, and assignment to be completed within two months**

 **Death Star II Production**

 **-Delayed**

 **Log Entry: File 3232-432**

 **Commander Rupert Milo, 342th Engineering Division,**

 **It has recently come to my attention that the Metallurgical Guild on Nexus 7 is no longer willing to provide Burium Ore that is required to link the Power Inducers to the hyper-matter reactor. The P.I. is essential if we expect to complete the project on time, we have informed Moff Jerjerrod.**

 **Log Entry: File 32399-32**

 **Moff Jerjerrod, Death Star II Commander,**

 **Communication with Metallurgical Guild has ceased, I have ordered Ambassador Tonus to immediately restart the shipment of Burium Ore.**

 **Log Entry: File 44222-8832**

 **Ambassador Tonus**

 **The Guild is no longer satisfied with our agreement. By the power bestowed upon me by the Emperor of the Galactic Empire, I have agreed to raise our payment from 321 credits per ton to 948 credits per ton. As well, I recommend immediate diversification of our Burium Ore supplier.**

 **Also, I have been informed of another issue related to production. Tractor-Emitters produced by the same Guild will no longer be supplied. No payment increase will suffice, they are unwilling to negotiate. From what I understand, they wish to adapt them to a new fleet they want to procure. Will inform Lord Vader.**

Thrawn pursed his lips and carefully considered the ramifications,

"The Deathstar, with the hyperspace enabled super-laser is essential to our campaign. Without the hyperspace feature, we would be unable to destroy the Metrons. Our ships, including the Deathstar are unable to get close enough to destroy their planet. Everything freezes dead in space, approximately a billion kilometers from their system. It may be possible for the Deathstar to target the Metrons from that range but it has never been attempted. It is highly unlikely we would ever engage them. Based on our research, they have not been in regular contact with any species for at least a thousand years. However, if engagement were to become necessary, the hyperspace feature would be essential. Maybe critical."

Vader's mechanical breathing and heavy boots filled the room while making his way to the window. Within his mask he closed his eyes and reached out with the Force. _Something is out_ _there_ , _something running counter to our plans_ , he could FEEL it, if only on the fringes of his consciousness.

"There is uneasiness within this Galaxy, your destabilization strategy has been exemplary. However..." Vader turned back towards Thrawn, "Are you certain galaxy-wide turmoil is due to your sole efforts?"

Thrawn was rubbing his chin in deep thought, _an interesting question..._

"The local and regional governments across the galaxy have been collapsing faster than we anticipated, a few raiders and pirates have risen but nothing we cannot handle. Some, the Maquis, existed before we even arrived. They have proven resourceful, but most have already perished by the hands of the Dominion Cardassian alliance. As you have read in my reports my Lord, slow communication speed in this galaxy prevents galactic scale organization like we experience in our own with the Rebel Alliance. That level of sophistication, organization, and common cause would be impossible here. It takes decades for a signal to travel from one quadrant to another."

"What of the increasing defection rate of your Bounty Hunters? Darth Maul can only be in so many places at once, he cannot kill them all."

"Yes, he has killed or captured over a hundred so far, there are...some that have disappeared."

"How many."

"Approximately eight-hundred." Neither man said a word for the next several seconds, the number was high, even Thrawn had to admit that, but the information gathering they provided was critical. Even more valuable was their ultimate task of assassinating any Founders that refused to retreat into the Gamma Quadrant when instructed prior to the Dominion's destruction. Fourteen-thousand Bounty Hunters now operated within the Galaxy, losing less than six percent was within Thrawn's guidelines.

"Is the wormhole weapon ready?" asked Vader.

"Yes, it is ready. Once the Founders retreat back to their homeworld, we will detonate the weapon and destroy the only bridge between the Gamma and Alpha Quadrants. The Dominion fleets will be isolated and then annihilated. Since no Vorta or Jem'Hadar know of our existence, there will be no remaining elements to reveal our real motives. Betazoid telepaths will be extinct, that plan, as a matter of fact is being hatched now. Their planet will soon be turned to slag by a fleet of Cardassian and Dominion ships.

"And if your plan fails Grand Admiral? If we are revealed?"

"Then we will conquer the Federation, their ships already being destroyed by the Dominion. In this unlikely event, we would have to aggressively engage the other Alpha Quadrant races, some of which are heavily armed."

"Very good, the Emperor is pleased, as am I. There is only one question remaining. Those who came through the temporal rifts, are they a threat to us?"

"Not at this present time, the female humanoid claims that a race called the Dalek's were responsible for the anomalies, perhaps even for the wormhole leading into the Imperial Galaxy. But. It has not been proven. They, if they exist, are not from this or any known Universe."

"Are you certain nothing else has arrived?" Vader looked back towards the window, _I sense something, I can feel it, working in the shadows, unseen, unheard…_ Finally, Vader spun around and headed towards the door, "Grand Admiral, be vigilant, we must complete this campaign on schedule."

Thrawn waited for the Dark Lord to exit before falling into his seat. He rested his hands on his temples and looked down at his desk, eyes closed. _How can someone 'sense' a danger that our probes, operators, and puppets cannot detect? We are everywhere. The Force has not helped crush the Rebels...or anticipated the delay of the Deathstar…_ Thrawn angrily jammed his finger into his communication button,

"Captain Algo, assign one-thousand more personnel to oversee surveillance operations, and order another ten-thousand analysis droids. Send out instructions to our operators on Earth, we need to know where that missing Starfleet base is located. To our operators on Romulus, they need to begin to destabilize that military industrial complex, I just saw a report that can't explain where half of their industrial capacity is being allocated toward. And my last order. There are several currencies traded throughout Dominion space, I want people pouring over the movement of this money, how are these raiders being financed? I expect an answer within twenty hours. Divert analysis droids if need be. Thrawn out."

"Yes, yes, Grand Admiral, right away. But... Sir, I was about to call you, priority short-message from Boba Fett."

 **Priority 1 - Sigma Four**

 **-Mission Failure**

 **-Request permission to return to fleet**

 **-Lord Maul severely injured, Bacta Tank requested**

 **-Unable to apprehend ParSortum - rogue Bounty Hunter on Romulan moon**

 **-Ambushed**

 **-Assailants unknown**

 **-Energy and rapid-fire projectile weapons**

 **-We retreated after heavy exchange**

 **-Ship stealth systems compromised in orbit**

 **-Port-side subspace dampeners destroyed after ship-to-ship engagement**

 **-Withdrew to fallback coordinates**

 **-Awaiting instructions**

 **-End Transmission.**

 **Milky Way - Galactic Centre - SuperMassive Blackhole**

The glowing eye-stock of the Supreme Dalek cast a dull blue light upon the instrument panel before it. The battle computer which helped assist the Dalek's in their planning and strategic options relayed various scenarios to the leader. Stealth was paramount, the slightest mistake could lead to dire consequences; there were undoubtedly dangers this early in the game, some fatal. At present, the stolen Section 31 base was drifting within the accretion disk of the supermassive black hole at the center of the Milky Way. It was being towed along by quintillions of tons of matter and energy as it swirled around the event horizon. Perfectly shielded by way of gravimetric distortions and advanced Dalek technology, it was virtually undetectable. Q was a significant danger, both the Supreme Dalek and Battle Computer had agreed on this. If the war was to be won, Q must die.

" **Reeeeporrrrrrt."** demanded the Supreme Dalek

" _Connection to Borg Collective remains stable, all systems continue to be slaved to ours, we are in control_. **"** Squawked a nameless Dalek, many in a long line of replicants cloned and engineered within the galactic core.

" **Progress of the Physic Destrrrrroooooyerrrrr?"**

"Physic Destroyer currently at 7% assembly and synthesis, **"** answered the unnamed Dalek.

The Dalek plan was an incredibly complex yet simple one, destroy the Q, and the rest will present no challenge. With the absorption of Commander Riker's thought waves on board DS9 several months ago, all information related to the Q had been absorbed into the Dalek consciousness. William Riker was, and still is the only human to have ever been given the power of the Q, and hidden, deep within his mind was that experience, as well as their abilities and weaknesses. The Dalek's had discovered this after a thorough scan of the entire Federation database as well as the mind siphoning of the Section 31 operative many months ago. The Dalek's reasoned that the instrument to attack the Q's Continuum would need to be one of telepathic variety. However, there would be more required to truly destroy them; the Physic Destroyer would only be enough to route them back into the Continuum. To exterminate the Q, a far more sinister plot needed execution; and if the Dalek's excelled at anything, it is planning.

The Supreme Dalek continued to give instructions,

" **Order our human slaves within Section 31 to increase Xyit Compound 823 on Earth, we must increase synthesis speed."**

Within the bodies of many Section 31 operatives existed unimaginably small robots operating discretely in each of their brains. The unaware puppets having their thoughts subtly altered by these machines to influence their behavior, utterly ignorant that they were being controlled or doing anything outside of their regular routines. Thanks to a complete hack of all Starfleet systems, the Dalek's confidently and rightfully felt that their microscopic-machines will remain undetectable by current or near future Federation technology. But there are still theoretical dangers.

Captain Kirk's direct communication with the Metron's presented an unknown equation into the otherwise precisely calculated Dalek strategy. The battle computer in conjunction with the Supreme Dalek reasoned that if their presence is detected or at least substantiated with high confidence, the Metron's might move against them. Typically, under normal circumstances this would pose no problem, but now, in their weakened state, the Metron's posed a threat. There as of course other dangers from other races, but none presented as severe a threat as the Q. Q's could not be incented or tricked. Therefore the actual and insidious Dalek plan had to remain a secret. Acted upon only at the last possible moment and developed below the Q's level of concern. Spreading out too much risks being destroyed by the Q, develop too little and falling to the Metrons becomes a possibility. A tough position to balance. Creating a grand army or armada was out of the question, their hands were tied, relying on stealth and deception to attain their goals. Part of their obscure strategy was the construction of various production sites spread throughout the Alpha Quadrant. These sites developed separate parts of the Physic Destroyer, a genuinely clandestine operation. This strategy whiles perhaps not effective against a full Q incursion, would be more than satisfactory against a lesser foe trying to unravel the Dalek master plan.

On Earth, Director Sloan expertly perfected the replication technology necessary for the development of the now deployed mines currently activated along the DS9 wormhole. The strategy and underlying technology to launch the mines was of course not Sloan's but the Dalek's, the Director having no clue it was not his 'brilliant' idea. With Starfleet Intelligence and not another branch controlling the manufacturing and research process, small pieces of equipment and resources could be redirected to the Dalek Physic Destroyer. This strategy was replicated across many planets within the Federation, and soon to be expanded into the Borg controlled sectors of the Beta and Delta Quadrants. Thanks to Dalek's upgraded Borg sensors and tractor emitters to detect and block any probe within a few million kilometers; the Empire was quickly losing track of what was happening in Borg space

Dalek's never slept, never tired, and are completely infatuated with one purpose, death and destruction. And so, orders and preparation continue,

" **Begin upgrading Borg propulsion units, ensure only Borg technology is used, we must not reveal our involvement. Standby production of Oblivion Continuum bombs, we must prepare for a possible war with the inferior race known as the Metrons** _ **."**_

"Affirmative. Transmitting instructions to Collective, now. What are your orders for the fleet on the edge of the galaxy? All evidence suggests probe droids and fleet originate from the same industrial body."

" **Fleet and probe technology is inferior, scans reveal primitive weapons, shields and propulsion, they will die soon after the Q.** _ **"**_ The Supreme Dalek turned and headed off towards a long hallway. Every square inch of Bakerfield was now being used for 'something,' there were no creature comforts or areas for rest or relaxation. And as the Dalek plan advanced, the risk increased they would be discovered. They were unsure if the Q knew that they inhabited this small station, but, they were sure that the Q had not uncovered their plans or they would surely have been atomized. The door hissed open and the Dalek floated inward to take a look at its other project. In the middle of the room, suspended by wires and equipment was a humanoid head. The eyeless, lipless, hairless and otherwise featureless severed head twitched and convulsed as the nerve endings tried to come to grips as to what had happened. Only the ears remained for any sensory input, but even those, the Dalek's were not entirely sure of their necessity.

" **Have you made contact?** _ **"**_ Instead of an answer, the head convulsed violently and the mouth opened to release an airless scream. Blood dripped onto the floor from the savage wounds and Dalek slaves ran about monitoring life support equipment and sensory data.

"My master, we are having problems picking up any signals, this is the sixtieth specimen. We used your adjustments...but master, both in dream and awake, we cannot detect any changes...perhaps we should rethink-"

" **Humans do NOT question Dalek strategy!"** __shrieked the Supreme Dalek. With a quick blast, both the slave and head were killed; for the tortured mind within the skull, it was a relief. _ **"Slave!"**_ Another cloned humanoid came scuttling across the room, feet splashing through pools of blood and other bodily fluids. _**"**_ **Prepare another specimen, recast the spell** **from the Necronomicon, page three-twenty-two, paragraph eight. Include etchings from page sixteen, eighteen and one-hundred. The plan will not fail, it CANNOT FAIL!** _ **"**_

 **Milky Way - Unknown Quadrant - Large Asteroid**

Deep beneath the surface of an unknown asteroid, in an unknown quadrant of an unknown system worked Teemar and his men. An enormous converted cave, now a teeming manufacturing center, with machines and operators working around the clock. There was no natural sunlight within the remote and miserable abyss, it was damp, cold, and dark. Despite the conditions, the work continued around the clock. High above the shop floor, nestled into the rock-face behind protective glass hung Teemar's office. Scattered about were charts, graphs, organizational pyramids and many more diagrams and notes to help keep track of the operation. Computer use was limited, relying instead on paper and booklets. While naturally less efficient, that was not the intended goal. Dexterity, durability, and secrecy topped the list of organizational priorities. Paper was far more secure, un-hackable, and, if destroyed, untraceable.

Within the private office, Teemar's steady eyes narrowed on the facemask of the smuggler on the opposite side of his messy desk. Yorsi had delivered the promised amount of Dioplaxican and other raw materials, but now it seems he was trying to take advantage of the situation.

"Listen you fat Romulan slug, I'll return all the ore if I don't get eight bars of gold pressed latinum," came the muffled voice of the smuggler.

"Are you insane?" shouted Teemar, "That is twice what I paid you last time!" He could barely believe what he was hearing, no one had asked for that much. "I've asked around, talked to people about you Yorsi, they say you used to work with the Ferengi. Is this where you learned your negotiating skills?"

Yorsi, whose origin was never inquired, was never befriended or companionship sought; he was here just for the money, and both knew it.

"This is going to go two ways, either I get all the bars, or…"

"Or…? Or what?" asked Teemar, a small but noticeable grin was moving across his chubby face. He scratched the back of his neck with a dirty finger, a boil was forming, and it itched immensely.

"Or I take over this operation myself, I've seen what you do, I know your routines, your contacts." The smuggler's left hand was slowly moving down towards his waistband, the grip of a weapon hidden beneath.

Teemar's eyes moved down to follow Yorsi's hand, he was not the first to try and double cross him. This came with the territory, any person who willingly accepted the lifestyle was already rotten to the core, this was not unexpected.

"You do not want to do that, Yorsi...or...should I call you, Yalax."

Yorsi's hand froze. _He knows! How?!_ Yalax was his Bounty Hunter name, the alias he used within the Imperial Galaxy, _How can he know?_

"Yalax, I can pay you far more than those feeble Imperial Credits you are collecting, far more than the few modifications you are allowed to keep at Kuat Drive Yards. I know your mission is to infiltrate the Dioplaxican mining operations within this Quadrant. You have been partially successful only because I have allowed it. This is your chance. Do you want to join us? Or, do you want to die? This facility is shielded, your secret transponder will not work here. Your ship transponder has been blocked, the Empire and all their little probes do not know where you are." Yalax did not move, he was too stunned, there was nothing to say, nothing to lie about. Somehow, _this fat Romulan knows about the Empire?!_ Teemar continued, "You are not the first I have approached, many of your fellow Bounty Hunters now work for my partners and I, they are moving product throughout the galaxy, and, making a fortune. Some even have their own teams, even small armies."

"This is impossible...impossible!" Yalax was reeling, he could not fathom how any of these details could be known to an ordinary gun-runner, especially one within the Milky Way. With confused desperation, Yalax reached down into his waistband to pull his blaster, but it was too late. Teemar's quick-draw was too fast, and within a fraction of a second, the Bounty Hunter was nothing more than an expanding cloud of gas, vaporized into his component molecules. The Romulan smugly re-holstered his DeLamater sidearm and walked casually across the room. _Oh well, there will be more, there are always more._ Just as he was about to sit down he heard a whirl of energy behind him, but he did not need to turn to see what was happening. The energy tunnel always brought a visitor, after which the disruption retreated into the nothingness from which it came. Now a man stood in the shadowy corner of his office, his face obscured by the low light. Black pants and a blue uniform with a few medals were visible, along with a golden sash tied around the waist with a silver weapon, resembling a dagger slung to the side.

"Mr. Teemar, status of hypermatter project, one?" the mystery-man asked coldly.

"I told you last time, we can't manufacture hypermatter in this Universe, it can only be completed in theirs! Something about how individual molecules react with one another... I thought you guys were smart," spat Teemar as he grabbed some papers and started hurriedly shuffling through them.

"Then it is logical that you begin manufacturing within the Imperial Universe. Your contacts are waiting for you. I will also mention time is not on your side. I calculate you have less than forty weeks to procure enough hypermatter to equip eight-hundred ships." The uniformed man adjusted a mechanical wristband as he spoke coolly and collectively. Teemar glanced over to try and get a better look, it seemed, at least to him that there was a majestic black pearl within the center of the band. It was glittering faintly, and within the blackness there was life, movement. "There are only two men and one woman who can trace this asteroid's location and place your previous whereabouts in the Cardassian DeMilitarized Zone. They are now dead."

Teemar rushed to the window as a commotion broke out below. Workers were rushing about trying to resuscitate the three dead workers, each lay in a heap on the floor, unmoving, unliving. Teeemar's hands were pressed against the glass, looking down at the frantic cries for help. The base doctor came rushing over but Teemar knew it was useless, this was not the sort of ailment where medicine and bandages would suffice. They had to die of course, he knew that, but he hated losing members of his crew. After several seconds he sighed and turned back towards the mystery-man, his mind now focused on the new task.

"I need something to keep the locals working for me in the Imperial Galaxy, they don't care about gold pressed latinum."

"We have something that will help you keep control, a payment method for even the most stubborn pirate." The shadowy figure took a small glass tube out of his sash and tossed it over to the Romulan.

Teemar looked at it and then placed it down on the table,

"Purple sparkle powder?"

"Thionite, the strongest, most addictive drug known to carbon-based lifeforms."

Teemar was skeptical as he shook the tube a few more times,

"As long as we control the source, we can control the population."

"Precisely. It cannot be replicated, I do not know where it was obtained, only that it was given to me, much like I am giving it to you. You will be supplied with as much as you need. Begin your venture into the Imperial Galaxy immediately. Bring what you need from this facility then destroy the asteroid using the same method as Epilus. Do you have superatomics in your stockpile?"

"Yes. Why did you have me do that by the way?"

"Teemar, I thought that would be apparent, but perhaps I have over-estimated your intelligence. The Epilus detonation rallied over thirty colony worlds to stand against the Cardassians, they all believed, as they should have, that it was the Cardassian and Dominion forces that destroyed the surface and subterranean cities of the planet. We are currently supplying them with weapons and resources. We can manipulate them as we see fit. We are in control now."

"Ah, I see..." Teemar was quiet for a long moment before continuing. "How big of an operation is this?"

"Bigger and more complex than you can imagine."

 _Are they operating across the entire galaxy? Isn't it just a quadrant?_ Teemar's thoughts were racing,

"No, not just a quadrant. One last thing. Put this on and keep it beneath your clothes. You know more than we can allow to be leaked, but until you fail, you shall live." The man tossed a small piece of equipment no larger than a deck of cards across the room.

"What is this?"

"A Thought Screen."


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

In Comes the Jedi

 **Imperial Galaxy**

It had been months since Ro Laren had sought out the Rebel leadership, her story and technology shared among the alliance members. After weeks of discussion and many more in preparation, the Rebel Alliance was making its move. The decision to move the military effort of the Alliance into the Milky Way was final. The game of cat and mouse between the Imperial Navy and Alliance would find a new playground. The far-reaching consequences of two galaxies under one rule was too much for even the most cautious Rebel leaders. Something needed to be done.

Ro to the best of her ability, described in detail the workings of the Alpha Quadrant. Both current and historical politics as well as military alliances had been laid out. Mon Mothma thought it best to communicate with the loosely aligned Federation Colonists in the hopes of stopping the barbarous bloodshed. Afterward, they would reach out to other Alpha Quadrant, primarily the Romulans to try and change the balance of power. According to Ro, the Romulans are the most supportive of their subversive efforts and so their civilization would be contacted first. The overall strategy was to bring awareness to the besieged quadrant in the hopes of creating a unified front against the Empire. Despite Ro's hatred towards the Federation and Cardassian's, she recognized their awareness of the puppeteering taking place would help her people immensely.

Efforts to drum up support both political and economical would continue in earnest within the Imperial Galaxy; with surprise success coming just a moment ago when the Rebel leadership received a surprised coded message from a member of the Hutt family on Tatooine. They wished to discuss terms of a joint-effort, promising to send a representative to draft an agreement. Shock was an understatement in describing the thoughts of Princess Leia who chose to stay behind with Mon Mothma and the rest of the leadership For years the Rebellion had tried to recruit support from the galaxies criminal elements, but until now, all proved unsuccessful. _May the Force be with you_ , thought Leia as she turned her attention outward to try and _feel_ Luke and Han.

The whirling vortex of hyperspace filled the cockpit windows of the hundreds of Rebel fighters, corvettes, and capital ships descending onto the unsuspecting Imperial blockade. There was a solemn feeling in the minds of every Rebel volunteering for this mission, taking them from their families and loved ones. Despite this, Rebels were fighting for something. Fighting for injustice, fighting to overthrow the Emperor and his minions. Incredible sacrifices had already been made, and all would be for nothing if one galaxy turned to two, and then perhaps three or four. If a military effort were to be waged within the Milky Way, then their sacrifice will be worth it.

Luke's grip tightened around the controls of his X-Wing fighter, the leather gloves scrunching as he pulled himself closer to his screens. _This is it_. The Rebellion had put great faith in his sense of danger. Immense, inescapable threat loomed large over their heads. With no face, no identity, and an unknown purpose, it remained hidden in the shadows, waiting, watching. In the corner of Luke's eye he saw the Millenium Falcon just ahead, it was the lead ship in the spear about to plow through the Imperial ranks, _here we go..._

In the Falcon, Han's eyes darted between his instrument panel and the swirling vortex beyond. He could see Luke's X-Wing to his right, bringing him temporary reprieve, but it was only a mild sedative for what wracked his mind. Han was seething hot. Furious at Leia for staying behind to help Mon Mothma keep control of the Rebellion. He had argued at length with her, had begged her, had pleaded with her to come along. In the end he had to accept she was staying, and that is why, he realized, why he loved her so much. _This better work!_

"Ok Chewie, get ready, deflectors on maximum, strap yourselves in," he said over his shoulder to C3P0 and Ro Laren. Both grabbed their restraint belts and pulled them tight. "...5...4...3...2...HIT IT!" The Wookie threw the switch and an instantaneous command triggered all the other ships hyperdrives to cut at the exact same moment. Within a second the fleet was out, **almost** exactly where they were supposed to be. Han's eyes expanded as wide as saucers when his brain finally registered what his eyes were seeing. With a desperate lunge over Chewie's left arm, Han yanked down hard on one of the controls, _"HOLY! Sh-"_ The entire viewing area was a giant white bulkhead. They had come out of hyperspace right **on top** of a star destroyer! The Falcon pulled up violently just in time to avoid a collision. Luke banked hard, causing stabilizers and power-inducers to strain under the load. Both ships now skimmed along the surface of the giant Imperial destroyer. Other fighters and capital ships exited slightly back, enabling them to avoid a collision.

"Han, head straight for the wormhole," came the static voice of Luke over the receiver, "I'll be along shortly."

"You don't have to tell me twice," responded Solo. Pulling the Falcon up and away from the star destroyer, his blue afterburner glowed hot as he accelerated with tremendous speed towards the invisible wormhole horizon. After several long seconds of anticipation, nothing. "Hey lady! Where the hell is it?!" Ro opened her mouth to respond but nearly shot out of her seat from a violent jolt. A steady stream of turbo laser flak was incoming from the now alert and scrambling Imperials. Ro shouted her answer, but no voice could rise above the feverish back-and-forth between Chewie and Han. They appeared, at least to her to be arguing over which angle to set the shields.

"No! No! ... Ok fine, ok! Ok!" Han climbed out of his seat, stumbling over C3P0's legs who could not move quickly enough to avoid the entanglement. "Out of my way 3P0! Before I put you back in garbage disposal!" To the untrained eye Captain Solo appeared to be a madman. Cursing, sweating, and clawing his way around the small-cramped cockpit, Han threw switches and levers inefficiently placed throughout. But it was working. Turbo laser blasts were missing their mark as the freighter, the 'piece of junk,' was staying alive.

Ro unstrapped her restraints once Solo had reseated and pushed her way between them,

"Fly deeper!" she shouted, her finger pointing towards the middle of the Imperial fleet.

C3P0 gasped,

"Deeper?!"

Han shoved her back with a free arm before muttering something to himself, _this is a bad idea,_

"Chewie, set two-seven-one," And so, the Falcon, the fastest ship in the galaxy, plunged further into the Imperial blockade. Behind Han was the rest of the Rebels, blasting, pitching, yawing, dodging, and bobbing their way through the ever-increasing 'mess' of tie-fighters and expanding debris clouds of exploding Rebel and Imperial ships.

Only a few hundred kilometers away Luke launched all four of his Ion Torpedoes, striking squarely a star destroyer and protective cruiser engaging a Rebel medical frigate. Electronic surges and massive bolts of electricity crawled their way across the hulls like giant spiders, knocking out turbo lasers and other critical systems. Luke glanced down at his readout, _we have lost eight already,_

"Wedge, form up on my left, I am reading lots of fighters coming in,"

"You got it boss," came the static-filled voice of his friend,

Visualize for a moment the predicament the Empire faced when deciding on a strategy to cordon off the secret wormhole within the Imperial Galaxy. The wormhole, invisible unless entered, could be accessed from any direction. A blockade that may have been found on 20th century Earth around a naval base or port could not be accomplished. Any attempt to protect a 'side' of the entrance would leave the other sides completely open. In addition to this dilemma of how best to defend the wormhole, there was also the notion that an overwhelming flotilla in space would even draw suspicion. All this was of course decided almost a year ago, when as it is now, only eighty ships of various classes were assigned to protect the wormhole. They created a sphere, one currently being penetrated by overwhelming force. No single star destroyer could defend against a Rebel Fleet, but the plan was not designed for such a contingency. The Empire, not in their wildest dreams or imaginations conceived of jammers that masked an entire Rebel fleet. Ro had provided the technology as a sure way to penetrate the blockade. A good analogy would be a knife and a balloon. If a blade were laid flat on the surface, the weight would be supported. If however, the pointed end turned inward, it would burst. The Imperial sphere was now accelerating hard towards the gap so viciously created, but it was too late. Rebel ships continued to disappear into the wormhole, only a stricken Imperial star destroyer whose reactor exploded caused significant casualties.

Luke swung about and was now headed towards the wormhole, the last of the Rebel cruisers disappearing just ahead. His job was complete, all but fourteen Rebel ships had made it. He wished it were not the case but losses were expected. Glancing down at the radar panel, Luke saw dozens of star destroyers and hundreds of tie fighters collapsing towards the center of the sphere. He knew the Imperials would give chase but it was pointless, upon entering the other Galaxy, his hyperdrive would activate and his ship would disappear from their scopes.

Pushing the X-wing sub-light engines to the limit, the once moisture-farmer turned Rebel looked forward at the endless sea of stars. Instruments designed for ship-to-ship combat could not detect the wormhole, nor could eyes see it; but through the Force he could _feel_ it. While the X-Wing sped onward at three-speed full throttle, Luke raised his hand slowly in front of him, his eyes closing in complete bliss. The fighter now piloted with his mind streaked onward, he soon 'saw' the horizon and that which lay beyond. The darkness was still there, the danger he sensed lurked in the shadows, yet he could see _more._ Fragmented images filled his mind, but instead of pushing harder and becoming frustrated, he relaxed. Yoda had been wise, and now he thought he could hear him, perhaps only in memory. _**Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter...you must feel the Force around you...**_ And so he accepted the fragments, accepted the chaotic images. He _fel_ t his father, _fel_ t his friends, _felt_ the future, even if he could not see it. Yet.

" _Father,"_

" _ **Son,"**_

" _Join me, it is the only way."_

And then the X-wing disappeared.

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise - Constitution Class**

Captain Kirk offered a soft smile to the yeoman delivering his second cup of freshly ground coffee before turning back to the viewer in his quarters,

"How's the Enterprise?" Asked Kirk taking a sip. Picard rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger, it seemed evident things were not going well.

"If i said exemplary, I would be exaggerating," Picard turned the screen to show his surroundings, "...my crew has been temporarily transferred to DS9 and Bajor as supplies and material are brought from Earth and other systems. The Enterprise is getting a complete retrofit at the station, teams are working day and night...she took significant damage. Captain Sisko was kind enough to give me the special Ambassador suite…" Picard trailed off in thought. "We lost just over fifty-thousand Starfleet officers in our engagement...families were onboard many of those ships."

"Yes, I read the report... a tragedy."

Picard continued rubbing his chin and looking off-screen in deep thought.

"The Klingons have been fighting both the Dominion and Cardassians, their losses, so I've been told are in the tens of millions. It could be argued the Dominion and Cardassians have lost just as many...and yet all our diplomatic missions fail to yield results-," Picard seemed to snap out of his daze and looked back towards the viewer, "Any luck with the Metron's?"

Kirk let the next sip of coffee sit in his mouth, _What to say...what...to reveal…_

"No. Besides providing us with an intact probe... they were... uninviting," Kirk then struggled with the rest of his sentence, he very much wanted to tell the whole story, but he couldn't, there was too much at stake. _Was Picard a Dalek puppet? Was Picard a Founder?_

"Unfortunate, and the Guardian?"

"Gone. It seems to have self-destructed." That lie hurt Kirk. He hated lying to a well respected Captain, especially one who cared so much for peace and human prosperity, but, _the illusion of ignorance must be maintained...the true enemy is the Dalek...it cannot be tipped off…_

"The Federation could certainly use some good news at this moment. I take it you watched the priority one message?"

Kirk barely heard the question, his mind was preoccupied with what lies and half-truths had to be maintained. Imperial control of the Dominion and Cardassian forces, as well as the Changelings real identities as Founders needed to be revealed, _but how? Starfleet Intelligence is compromised...and the information from the intact probe certainly wouldn't support such a revelation in information...anyone can be a Changeling...even the President…_

Kirk finally answered,

"War. It seems... Starfleet has sided with the Klingons, that we are waging war against both the Dominion and Cardassians..." the door hissed and Spock entered, hands clasped behind his back, waiting. "Sorry Jean-Luc I'll have to call you back," the line was cut and Kirk redirected his attention to his science officer. "Did we get word Spock?"

"Affirmative, the Metron's received the encrypted messages detailing your conversation with Kinnison, as well as our experience with the Guardian of Forever and Q."

"And?"

"I'll summarize their answers for you. They do not know whom you were in communication with, they do not know who the Creators are. They care not for trivial wars between the Empire and us, they will not assist. But."

"But?"

"They are going to find and destroy the Dalek." Kirk sat back a moment, his face full of expression, a thousand tons had been lifted off his shoulders.

"And what of our message to Starfleet regarding the Empire?"

"The Metrons insist we reveal nothing, the Dalek remains the top priority. The Metron's estimate that there is little chance of convincing the Cardassians or Dominion of the actual facts, but a high chance of alerting the Dalek's to our collaboration with the Metron's."

"That's how I see it as well. Nice work Spock, how are those Changeling sensors coming along?"

"We have installed them, using the specifications from Starfleet Intelligence. I believe they work as described, I see no reason, even if Starfleet Intelligence is compromised or controlled by a Dalek, which is unproven, that they would want Changelings running loose throughout the Federation. Sixty-seven percent of facilities, ships and outposts have installed similar systems. Although I do caution, depending on whom the Changelings have copied, that number could be significantly less."

"Agreed. We cannot take any chances...trust no one outside the ship."

"Captain, may I point out, that it is very possible other crews as well as Starfleet command have also come to the same conclusion you have. Information may not be accurately or readily moving through the Starfleet network."

"That cannot be helped right now. Once the Dalek is eliminated, we can turn our attention, collectively...towards the Empire. Only then can we reveal everything... Kinnison, if he is successful...can...hopefully stop the flow of ships...perhaps even their will to wage open war."

Spock exited and Captain Kirk turned his attention to a recently circulated log entry by Captain Benjamin Sisko, it read:

 **Captain Benjamin Sisko**

 **Deep Space 9 - U.S.S. Defiant**

 **Stardate 2743.2**

 **Maiden voyage of Defiant has gone as expected, no major or minor problems to comment on, all systems operating as expected. My only regret is the reneging by the Romulan government on their agreement to provide a cloaking device.**

 **We have just left the Klingon Home World, participated in intense discussions with Chancellor Gowron and his advisors on military efforts against the Cardassian and Dominion Alliance. It seems the Klingons have mobilized all major population centers spread across their territory. Old Birds of Prey, some as old as century are being brought back into service. I wasn't able to get a sense of their losses, but I told them it is critical we combine strategies and work as one military, with one strategy.**

 **The Klingons are experimenting heavily with bio-engineering using an unknown powder which they stumbled upon a century ago. It seems they are artificially manipulating soldiers into what they call "super-warriors," shock troops which are dropped into trouble spots. I was informed it is the same technique that changed the Klingon physiology so drastically 80 years ago. I was able to observe these super-warriors up close. They are brutal, unhinged and totally without self-control. They are as far from Klingons, as Klingons are from us. Dr. Bashir did obtain samples of this powder and we are transporting it back to DS9 for study before joining up with the 8th fleet.**

 **-Captain Sisko**

Kirk switched off the screen and shook his head. He hated Klingons, he felt them to be utterly intolerable, _but still...we need to join forces…_ Soon the Enterprise would be linking up with the 8th Fleet near the Cardassian border to flush out the area of enemy influence. Thirteen colonies had been attacked within the last week alone, the number of dead rising into the tens of thousands.

"Kirk to bridge, how long before we link-up with the 8th?"

Sulu responded promptly,

"Twenty-seven hours at present speed."

Kirk exited his quarters and purposefully made his way down the corridor, a half-scowl visible across his face. Before times of battle it was routine for a Captain to tour their ship. To talk to their crew and to see to it that all arrangements and preparations were coming along on schedule. Passing crew were given a nod or occasional pat on the shoulder, they had been tested many times, by many aliens and circumstance, _they will not let me down_. After several minutes, Kirk stopped at the entrance to 'John's' assigned quarters, the door chimed.

"Come in."

The door slid open but Kirk did not move, he was surprised to see the lights off.

"John?"

"In here."

A foul stench was in the air, a cool putrid dampness was inviting him in, pulling on his fingers, wrapping around him in a cold embrace.

"John? Are you ok?" He took a few steps, "John?" A whisper, perhaps a muttering of something terrible caught his attention. Then it was gone. _Did I imagine that?_ Kirk turned towards the bedroom, his eyes narrowed, trying to focus on something, anything. Despite the silence, he continued onward, reaching slowly for his communicator on his waist. "Security, report to 'John's' quarters immediately." Then he saw something, it appeared to be a shadowy figure laying against the wall. "John. Respond." Kirk moved forward quickly,. "John?!" shouted the Captain as he knelt down to grab his comrade's leg. Kirk jumped as his hand touched the floor, the pant leg which he expected had vanished. Instantly Kirk rubbed his eyes, he was sure it had been there. _It was there, I know it was…._

"Jim..." Kirk's heart nearly exploded from the startling voice, he spun around to see 'John' laying against the other wall, his face and body shrouded in darkness.

"John! Are you ok?!" Kirk ran over, switching on a desk lamp and leaning down to attend to his friend.

"Captain," the marine sounded exhausted, "Cienna told me that we are headed into battle, that she thought we could get boarded."

"John…" then the Captain lost his words, he wasn't sure what to say. He knew how volatile and dangerous 'John' could become. He had read the report from Picard months ago on what had been observed in the training room on Earth. The risk was undeniable, _...but so are the rewards..._ After an awkward silence, Kirk slid down the wall and sat a few feet away from his companion. "John...we are a day away from perhaps the largest and costliest fleet engagement the Federation has ever known. Both in personnel and material. I want you to know, that i have the utmost confidence in you. There is a chance we could be boarded...from what we've seen with the Klingons...a chance that they will try and capture the ship, or someone on it. Me, you...Cien-" At the mention of her name, 'John' glanced up from the dark hell his mind occupied.

"She is defenseless."

"Not if we can help it. Not...if you can help it." Kirk drove his finger into the marine's arm. "I need to be on the bridge, I need you, to protect her. I need you, to protect my ship from anything that comes onboard." The door hissed open and two security men rushed in, phasers drawn. Kirk gave them the 'ok' and ordered them to retrieve some objects in storage. "Is it getting worse? McCoy says he's out of ideas…"

"Every day. Every week, they become stronger."

"I want to talk to them... I need to know what they want…"

John turned his head slowly, his dull expressionless eyes the window to his obliterated, consumed, and devoured soul.

"Captain, we know what they want, Cienna has told us, and they have spoken to me."

"Are they talking to you now?"

"Yes."

Kirk raised his chin, his eyes narrowing into lasers as he thought everything through, _better John is on our side than theirs..._

"This is Captain Kirk of the United Federation of Planets. Identify yourself." Nothing. The Captain moved closer, "Beings of Dunwich...beings of the Necronomicon...identify…" John's eyes flickered back and forth. Searching for something, not visible, but reacting to what he saw in his mind. Up to this point, mind-melds, hypnosis, meditation had all failed; but now there was something happening. John wasn't sure if _**THEY**_ were reacting to what Kirk said, but he was seeing visions of a town, a dilapidated and forgotten place somewhere on 'John's' Earth hundreds of years ago. It was Dunwich, where so many centuries ago, creatures of indescribable ability were attempting to break into what you the reader would consider reality.

They had been close, their minions being stopped at the last moment. _**We can help you...we can bring you peace. Everlasting death.**_ 'John' opened his eyes, and in the shadowy room, where the lamp seemed to shine dimmer and dimmer, where the walls squeezed inward, 'John' was starting to break. He wanted to die, he wanted the silence, an absolute peace appealed to him. How he wished for it, but he could not. _**THEY**_ spoke again, _**What doesn't truly live, cannot truly die!**_ In front of him he saw the Captain, but he was also seeing other worlds. Alien worlds of fantastic strangeness and dismay, where bodies, unrecognizable as humanoid lay slashed and torn. What 'John' was seeing was a time long ago, Universe's past, where _**THEY**_ once ruled.

 _The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them, They walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen. Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again._ Those words had been interpreted by the original author of the Necronomicon, but he was only a man; much like 'John' is only a man. Able to perceive but a tiny fraction of the truth, a morsel of the whole. Dunwich was only where _**THEIR**_ activities were initiated by the faithful few. They were in fact attempting to cross into everywhere, in all places, specific words and spells being the key. Throughout the Necronomicon there are many descriptive words, some lost in translation from whatever language may have been initially used. "Long ago" in human terms is millions, perhaps billions of years. Less so for the original author of the ancient book; who is thought to have penned it tens of thousands of years ago. "Great distance" was measured in days on horseback or foot, but the same problem arises. What is the real meaning? What was the actual transcribed thoughts and whispers put into the book? No man can know. If written now, spacefaring races would use lightyears or galaxies; perhaps dimensions or universes by more advanced races.

How fantastically wrong, how unmeasurable naive. There are names that should not be written, but know the Nuclear Chaos, the Daemon-Sultan Azathoth lies at the center. How distance, time, energy, matter, dimension, and the infinite realities unknown to us can have a center is impossible for you or I to comprehend, but it is true. And how all existence can be a small portion of one entity, the All-In-One, Yog Sothoth is also indescribable, but equally and fantastically real.

After several minutes, 'John' spoke,

"Jim. They are gone now... I am sorry." Indeed they were, their voices fell silent and only rushing blood filled his ears. Kirk placed his hand on 'John's' leg and sighed. _What in gods name are these things…how can we communicate with them..._ two security men entered the room, dropping a few heavy objects near the doorway before leaving.

"We brought this from Earth, we will issue you a phaser when the time comes." 'John's' eyes shifted from Kirk over to the armor, **his** armor. It was stained, damaged, abused. It had seen all the Doom that could be mustered, all the Doom that could be thrown at it, and still it survived. Black fluid, the remnants of his enemies stained the torso, cracks, dents and scratches covered the rest. "We didn't want to touch it...we didn't want to modify it, but...we could repair-"

"No. It is perfect."

"We noticed the protective eye covering is smashed on the right side of the helmet, it's... no longer airtight. There is a two-inch hole right on the eyepiece."

'John' closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, his mind was no longer there, not truly. _**THEY**_ were talking to him again, scratching, laughing, gnawing. _**Soon you will know, soon you will see his betrayal.**_

"Captain, the armor is perfect, leave it as it is."

Kirk patted 'John's' knee and walked towards the doorway, only to stop and look back.

"I want you to know, that Dr. McCoy is doing all he can for you, and that...we all want you to be at rest." _I must keep this confidence, he is either with us, or against us..._

'John' pulled his head off the wall and opened his eyes slowly. For an instant, for the quickest of moments, Kirk saw eyes staring back at him that were _not_ human! Kirk blinked and shook his head, knowing deep down he had not imagined the fantastically strange or unexplainable hallucinations. _He is as dangerous to us as he is to our enemies, we must keep him on our side. We cannot alienate him; we need to show him that he is part of us... part of humanity._

"Jim. No one will harm Cienna, I give you my word." Kirk did not reply, both men found themselves staring at each other knowingly. "The Daleks designed her entirely for me. Specifically for me. But. I am a monster. When this is all over, I will be gone, and she will continue, hopefully with someone worthy." Kirk had a solemn look on his face, he knew 'John' was right, he nodded and left.

Several minutes later Captain Kirk strolled into engineering as he had done a thousand times before. Humming and buzzing equipment mixed with many people talking and coordinating was reassuring. Moreover, while he was no engineer, it was his ship, his crew, his command; and so every decision or assigned duty ultimately fell on him.

"How's the work coming along?" He asked warmly to the trio of Scotty, Spock, and Cienna. They had been hard at work since leaving the forbidden planet of the Guardian of Forever. Trying to replicate the energy transmutation and repair operation that the Nomad probe had achieved years earlier. Nomad, for those who may not know the history of the Enterprise was a hyper-advanced probe which corrected deficiencies in the anti-matter input value to achieve a fifty-seven percent increase in power. The modification, while short-lived allowed for higher speed and weapons output. What the probe did was known, how it did it, remained a mystery.

Cienna lifted her eyes from the panel and for what seemed like an eternity, met Kirk's with dazzling brilliance. More than spectacular eyes, her beautiful hair sat pinned behind her head and silky smooth skin flowed like cream. Lost memories and knowledge had been fully restored, allowing for around the clock research to help recreate the modifications of the Nomad probe. All three-hundred of her impressive IQ poured into the project. If beauty is only skin deep, then what lay beneath shone spectacularly. Even years later, Spock and Scotty had been unable to replicate the exact science used to adjust the input values; the Nomad probe using a technique unknown to them. Now though, Cienna brought a whole new level of experience and acumen. Years of working with sophisticated Dalek technology began bridging the gap. New life breathed into a once impossible project.

Beneath the work desk Mr. Scott's legs could be seen and a muffled voice heard,

"Captain, we have isolated the proper frequencies, but the devil is in the details, the bloody thing just won't stabilize."

Kirk fixed his jaw, it was coming down to the wire and the pressure was rising. _This is an essential project,_

"We are only a day away from engaging the Cardassian and Dominion forces inside the demilitarized zone. We must. I repeat. We _must_ have this power."

Spock nodded in agreement,

"If we cannot sustain the power, we will at least provide it temporarily, perhaps long enough for the engagement."

"The last time the Federation engaged the Dominion, their weapons cut right through the shields. From what I'm told, the fixes Starfleet sent out to the fleets will stop that...but... the Dominion might have new tricks."

Cienna had been keeping abreast of the strategic situation, her mind keenly interested in the tactical balances,

"How many ships do they think the Dominion and Cardassians have inside the demilitarized zone?"

There was a slight hesitation noticed by the trio, Kirk seemed to mull the answer, he didn't want to make it appear hopeless.

"I've been told to expect between three-hundred and fifty to four-hundred."

"FOUR-HUNDRED?" Cried Scotty as he scampered back to his feet. "We'll have this damn thing ready for you if it kills us."

"We will be outnumbered, the 8th should have about three-hundred and twenty ships. We must prevail. Keep at it, get some rest if you can." Kirk turned about and headed for the door. _Only a day left before we engage the enemy. Just a day to tilt the odds in our favor._ For the next several hours every department and crew team was checked and rechecked, the phaser crews given extra attention and instruction. The additional power that Kirk hoped to capture from the Nomad probe technique could not be converted into anti-matter warheads on photon-torpedoes. Instead, the extra energy could be channeled through the ship's phaser banks, shield grid and warp drive. Tired crew yawned and blinked themselves awake as the hours crawled onward. Minutes turned into hours and the decks and halls became more empty, shifts were ending and the last sleep they perhaps would ever take was upon them.

As the Captain approached his quarters he heard his dear friend Bones walking up behind him.

"Jim. I think you could use this," In the doctor's hand rested a bottle of Whiskey and two small glasses. "Been a devil of a day, and tomorrow, well tomorrow, who knows," he offered a full glass to the Captain and smiled.

Kirk grinned and accepted,

"Bones, have I ever told you that you are an excellent doctor with great bedside manner?" The two chuckled as they stopped at the doorway of the Captain's quarters, the door hissed open and Kirk gulped down his drink. McCoy held his glass to his lips and about to drink when his eyes caught something on the floor, a pair of black leather knee-high boots. They were laying on the ground near the entrance, not placed orderly like a guest, but rather flung off after a long day. Bones knew the boots right away, every man on the Enterprise knew those boots; they were Cienna's. Kirk noticed his friend's hesitation and looked back over his shoulder to see what had caught the doc's eye.

Bones reached over and pulled the empty glass from Kirk's hand and refilled it. An undeniably huge grin covered the doctor's face; he then passed Jim two full glasses.

"Jim, they say the biggest issue with living on a starship is loneliness, at least you are dealing with that."

Kirk smirked then broke out into a chuckle, a look of embarrassment on his face. He knew the jig was up,

"Bones I-"

"Doctor's orders." Bones winked and walked off down the hallway.

 **Milky Way - Galactic Rim - Imperial Fleet**

Ragged may not be the best word to describe Grand Admiral Thrawn in this situation, but it will suffice. He had not slept in forty hours. His usually pristine uniform was hanging off him, his shirt only half-tucked into a wrinkled set of pants. The Rebels had broken through the Imperial blockade and now ran loose within the Milky Way, and he was none too pleased. This colossal military and intelligence failure was of such consequence, of such magnitude that Thrawn's entire campaign could be undone. If the Rebels were to reach a friendly race in the Alpha Quadrant and somehow convince them of the true nature of the threat, his almost year-long endeavor would be for not. Completely control was the primary mission, but the particular emphasis put on him by the Emperor towards the humans in the Alpha Quadrant was paramount.

 _How could they have found out!? How! How! How could they have known!? How did they create jammers for an entire fleet?_ These questions and more racked his brain. The fleet commander on the Imperial side of the wormhole had been arrested, then killed for incompetence. Piett and Thrawn's fleet now broken into a six-dozen; raced to various points in the galaxy to try and intercept the Rebels when they eventually came out of hyperspace. The galactic sensor-net would detect them, and once they did, the entire Imperial armada would descend on them like jackals.

Thrawn ran his exhausted fingers through his messy hair as he slammed his fist into the console. Kirk was another problem, thankfully an opportunity to capture him was approaching.

"Are the special commandos in position?" Thrawn planned to capture Kirk and determine what the Captain knew of the Imperial galaxy, then execute him. The other 'two' would also be captured and tortured for information, the 'two' being Cienna and 'John.' Boarding parties of Jem'Hadar were proving to be only half successful against the Klingons and so a modified strategy was created. An elite troop of Imperial Stormtrooper Commandos had been assigned to a Dominion Cruiser under the direct command of a seasoned Imperial Special Forces Commander.

"Yes sir, they are in position, the Federation 8th-Fleet is assembling, we expect to capture him in less than a day."

Thrawn dug his fingers into his temples, _good...excellent...he's falling into our trap…_

"Be sure that our detectable forces number less than four-hundred. The one-hundred Dominion cruisers hiding in the Yi Nebula will not be detected until it is too late," a smirk ran across the Grand Admiral's face, the first in several days. The trap was simple. Allow the Federation to believe their engagement would be on near equal footing, and then launch an attack on their flank with a hidden fleet inside a nearby nebula. Federation sensors were atrocious when it came to Nebula penetration, Thrawn was confident that the hidden fleet would remain so. "Open a secure channel to Commander Mortil onboard the Cruiser Hunaro." The Hunaro was the flagship of the hidden Nebula fleet, and temporary home of the elite Imperial Commandos.

"Open."

"Commander Mortil, this is Grand Admiral Thrawn." A blue hologram flickered to life, shifting erratically due to the extreme encryption now being used throughout the Imperial network. A scruffy looking Imperial officer bowed slightly and waited for instruction. "Tomorrow, when the Federation 8th Fleet engages Dominion and Cardassian forces inside the demilitarized zone, do not exit the Nebula until I give you the word. You are the best commandos in the galaxy, more than enough to overwhelm the few dozen security men on board the Enterprise. Kill everyone but the Captain and his two companions." The hologram flickered away and Thrawn sat in his chair, exhausted. He wanted to sleep, for the first time in his successful career he was feeling overwhelmed. The Rebels, Kirk, _and those damn space pirates, who is helping those space pirates?_

The stupendous amount of analysis droids and intelligence personnel working the pirate funding problem had all been reassigned to search for Rebel activity. What Thrawn had hoped to have been solved in less than a day, had continued to drag on for several weeks. No trace of money could be precisely tracked, no person of influence found. Changelings and Imperial operators assigned to the case had exhausted all leads. Captured and tortured barkeeps, outlaws and civilians knew little or nothing at all. It seemed, at least to Thrawn that no one pirate or person knew more than a slight fraction of what was going on. A drop of supplies or money was left here or there, only to be discovered it was transported away. Often the 'middle man' thought they were doing something completely different or were blackmailed themselves. All ends were dead ends, _but that does not matter now…_

Kirk's face shimmered on the monitor in front of Thrawn, stolen from a Starfleet records database. _Tomorrow_ _you are going to tell me all you know James T. Kirk, you will reveal everything, and then…_

 _You will die._


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Enemy Within

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - DS9**

Light pulsated down the face of Sloan as the turbolift descended into the lower promenade; his chiseled cheekbones painting dark shadows across his thin face. The man was now a puppet, a drone, a slave to his masters. Ever since the Dalek had implanted him with microscopic machines he was unknowingly fulfilling their plans. On the outside, Sloan was the same as he was before; stern, cold, meticulous, uncompassionate, and above all, loyal to Starfleet. The machines subtly altered his brain-waves, their influence indirect yet pervasive. What Sloan remembered of the Bakerfield incident was not real, just false memories implanted by the Dalek. He remembered _perfectly_ the unexpected anti-matter leak which had destroyed the  
Section 31 station just before his ship had arrived. _Perfectly_ the daring rescue attempt to save his companions among the lifeboats, _perfectly_ the unbelievable loss of opportunity with the destroyed 'changeling' that they had captured. These false memories were so real and granular that he was still upset with himself even now.

The turbolift shuddered to a halt and the door slid open, revealing the empty promenade ahead. The war and subsequent mining of the wormhole had closed all trade with the Gamma Quadrant, there was little need or incentive for merchants and entrepreneurs to stop at that station now. Quark's bar was mostly empty, every glass perfectly cleaned, every table perfectly washed and every holosuite fully charged and ready to go. Sloan walked through the double sliding doors of the establishment and paused at the entrance to survey the scene. No more than half a dozen off-duty officers were sitting about, some eating, some drinking, but none talking. The war weighed on everyone, the losses climbing too staggering levels, with each engagement bringing more destroyed ships and souls. Everyone had lost a relative, loved one or friend. Hearts were heavy and the outlook was grim.

"Quark I take it?" said Sloan, sliding over one of the barstools and resting his arms on the counter.

The Ferengi walked over casually and leaned forward as he had done a thousand times before,

"Director I believe? Director Sloan?" 

The skull-like face was immediately evident to Quark, the Director's pronounced cheekbones pulsated as his snake eyes looked him over.

"So Quark, what do you know?"

"About?"

Sloan sat back, his interwoven fingers sliding back and forth as he studied the Ferengi's face, trying to decide how much this barkeep could be trusted.

"About things I need to know. Including, information about those colonists that had a few drinks in this place, after the battle out there," Sloan tilted his head towards the bulkhead where the Enterprise and fleet had engaged the Dominion for the first time a month ago.

"I can tell you that they hate Cardassians."

Sloan's eyes dulled as he heard the words,

"Everyone knows that,"

Quark chuckled and leaned back against the bar wall, a few bottles of expensive delicacy rattled under his weight. He wasn't sure what to think of this Sloan, Quark felt his conversations with the Colonists were entirely legitimate, all in pain, all suffering emotionally from the loss of their families.

"Aren't you the Director of Starfleet Intelligence? You should know this stuff."

"We know what our analysts-"

"Spies." Interjected Quark with a grin.

"...People can tell us. Did any of them mention help? Did any of them mention resources?"

"Nope, can't remember. Wasn't too many of them. The leader, maybe, at least someone who was a leader of those who survived was talking to Sisko and Picard. The ones down here, two or three at the most, were mostly quiet, nursing their...well I guess they were drinking away their problems. Nevermind them. I heard it was your department that Ferengi's the cloaked-self-replicating mines on this side of the wormhole. You know, you've killed my business. That's the real tragedy."

Sloan ignored the Ferengi's comments and continued with his questioning,

"Did they mention where they got their weapons? My team couldn't get here in time to inspect their ships."

"Too bad. That happened a while ago, what have you been doing this whole time?"

"It takes time to get here from Earth. They blocked Captain Sisko from boarding their ships as well, don't you find that odd?"

"No. Why would they want Starfleet looking at their stuff? Anyway, back to my problems, when are those mines going to come down?"

"When we win the war." Sloan pulled a small datapad from his pocket and started to dance along the keys. "I had a chance to review your license agreements with this station, all checkout. I also had a chance to review your license agreement on your venture in San Francisco."

"Great place, got it real cheap. My brother is running it for me."

"You don't find it strange that a pastry shop on Betazed moved to Starfleet headquarters?" This fact had never crossed Sloan's or anyone else's mind. Thousands of businesses moved across the quadrant all the time, a common occurrence. The question's origin and uneasiness was motivated by the micro-robots within the Director's brain. Unbeknownst to Starfleet or the broader Federation, the Dalek's maintained complete and unfettered access to all systems since the Bakerfield incident. Able to pour and sift through the sea of information, the genius level intellect of the Daleks began to see discrepancies in older data files. Kinnison had been ultra-careful during his time on Earth. Minds had been adjusted, wiped, reprogrammed. Computer systems had also been given careful consideration, with personnel records and status altered. All this was enough to fool humans or rudimentary security algorithms, but a Dalek was a cut above. Their incredible minds and Battle Computer had started to suspect something, or someone, or even a group of people that may be working covertly within the broader Federation. Threats to the Dalek master-plan were scrutinized hourly, and so far as they could tell there were two issues that their slave-Sloan could investigate. The Colonist weapons, and an unlikely, but possible saboteur activity operating within the Federation. The Imperial infiltration plan was long known, their easily decipherable transmissions cracked in seconds by the Dalek's. The Founders and Bounty Hunters were meaningless, spotted 'a mile away' by the super deduction and analysis of the 'pepperpots' operating at the center of the Galaxy. There were issues in all four quadrants that needed further attention, but with limited resources the Dalek's could only investigate in two ways, that by which of slaves and information analysis. This background information was unknown to Sloan, whose only impulse now was to figure out what was happening with the Colonists and to a lesser degree, the previous owner of Pastry Farm on Earth.

Quark scoffed at the absurdity of the question,

"No it's genius, do you know the profits I'm getting? Besides, I bid fair and square. And believe me, just saying I did it by the book makes me sick to my stomach."

"Did you ever meet the previous owner?"

"No, he got killed in a transporter accident. That's why I went through Kateborrows." Kateborrows is an organization that allows for the disbursement of assets and businesses if an owner was killed or passed away. Quark had jumped on the opportunity and bid heavily on the establishment. Behind the scenes, Kinnison had orchestrated the entire event. Adjusting minds and having computer records overwritten, 'Yalick' had died, managing to attract over three-hundred to his ceremony of passing. 'Yalick,' the man who never existed, a phony and fraud, was sorely missed. Created slowly with fake log entries by mind-controlled Starfleet personnel was a Lensman specialty. People were crying and swapping stories of when they used to play with him as a child. Others 'remembered' him when he was just a teenager, **Yalick was always a dreamer…** said one of his 'friends'. This was the same for the unfortunate death of Kinnison's other alter-ego, Lieutenant Commander Gulliver. People from across Earth had flooded to his service, showing unbelievable displays of compassion and loss. He had died a hero, stopping an assassination attempt by jumping in front of a phaser blast to save a Council Member. There was no link between the two 'people' but the Dalek's were masters of information. And as time passed they were detecting small, but unexplained lapses in security or even strange timings of certain events. The Dalek's were unconvinced, and so they continued their investigation.

"Alright Quark, I'll leave you alone, but, I'll make you a deal. You hear anything about the Colonists, you let me know. And if I find your information valuable, I'll transfer you ten bars of gold-pressed latinum."

Quark's face instantly went from suspicion to amazement,

"Ten! Bars!? Certified?"

"Certified by Starfleet." Quark rested his head against the drink-wall. He could use those bars, he wanted them badly. "Oh, and Quark. If you can manage to get me information, and not tell anyone about this conversation, I'll throw in another fifteen bars. And, believe me, I'll know if you tell anyone."

Sloan exited Quark's without another word, he was banking on the fact that while business had slowed, that smugglers and gun runners would still lean on their contacts to help fulfill transactions. One of which was Quark. This hopefully would lead him to the supplies of the weapons for the Federation Colonists in the demilitarized zone. _If Starfleet could get their hands on some of these weapons…_

The turbolift doors hissed open and Sloan was surprised to see Captain Picard standing within, a small nod was exchanged.

"Director." Said Picard,

"Jean-Luc," came the cold and distant reply. Sloan didn't particularly care for Picard, he considered him self-righteous, the stories of him undressing officers with lessons of morality were famous. Picard, at least in the mind of Sloan was unable to do what had to be done to keep the Federation on top. Section 31 and Picard had different views on the Prime Directive, no more so on the viewpoint of interference with lower lifeforms. Many lower forms had been taken advantage of by Section 31, manipulated to give up ores and precious minerals that Starfleet wanted. Whereas Picard held true to the Prime Directive, it was his moral compass, guiding his actions and sense or morality.

"Director Sloan, may I have a word?" asked Picard after seconds of cold-silence. The Director turned his head to acknowledge the Captain. "My first officer, Commander Data presented to me a rather novel theory on the Changelings."

"Oh?"

"He suggested that there must be other subversive elements within Starfleet and the Federation. Scanners are now installed on nearly all Federation outposts and ships, yet less than seventy percent are ever working during surprise audits. He feels they must be getting help of some sort."

Sloan turned back towards the front of the turbolift, with a less than impressive look on his face.

"We have already thought of that Picard, what do you take us for, idiots? We have a plan in place to take care of this."

"Can you share it?"

Sloan for a moment was going to dismiss the question, but as he thought about it more and more, he liked the idea of telling Picard face-to-face. He knew the Captain would be against it, knew it went against everything Picard stood for and believed. Now a small smile crept along his face,

"Sure. We will be assigning a telepath from Betazed to every ship, colony, and outpost within the Federation. They will be a second line of defense against intruders. Reading the minds of every person, every alien they come in contact with. Officers of Starfleet included. We will then weed out the saboteurs. So? What do you think."

PIcard said nothing, instead staring at Sloan with a look of disbelief and contempt. His rebuttal had to still honor the chain of command, but he felt this to be repugnant.

"You cannot just read the minds, en mass, of people whenever you want. Everyone is entitled to their privacy. No matter the Officer, no matter the person, people are not always in the best of moods. People are allowed to dissent, especially in their own heads."

"We are at war Jean-Luc. War. War against the Dominion, war against the Changelings, who are, probably working for the Dominion. These…" Sloan stretched his hand out into the air, "...damn probes. Who are also probably Dominion. We are being stretched to the limit. And, you're talking about privacy of the mind? When they are among us? Eating, sleeping...you get the point Captain?"

"And what will happen to these telepaths when the war is over? Will they still listen to our thoughts Director? What if someone decides they don't like the current administration at Starfleet Command. What then? We cannot lose our principles because we have met an obstacle. Nothing is more certain of an oppressive government, when the words, _it is for your own protection_ , prefix an idea."

Sloan kept his icy eyes on Picard, both men were locked, neither flinching as the door opened.

"I've never liked you Picard,"

"I will accept that as a compliment, Director." Picard offered a warm smile and the two parted ways. Sloan kept his eye on Picard as the Captain rounded a corner on the far side of the promenade. _What an idealist...not able to make the tough decisions necessary to win a war._ _Victory. At all costs._

Inside DS9's Sickbay, Doctor Bashir was busy analyzing the powder samples obtained from the Klingon Empire. Messily tossed about his desk were datapads and sample readings. In an isolation chamber just a few feet away, detailed subatomic scans and analysis were being completed. It was heavily shielded, with every precaution being taken. Bashir did not want this substance getting out. "Ok computer...scan sample A3, and composite a molecular map on my station." A soft hum and then a graphical picture of molecules floating in orbit around one another appeared on his screen. He sighed as he wiped down his face with an exhausted hand. "Computer, test sample A4."

"Not losing too much sleep I hope doctor." said Sloan from the doorway. Bashir barely looked up, he was indeed tired, overworked and stressed. Starfleet Medical, in conjunction with Starfleet Intelligence had asked him to analyze the strange samples and report back as soon as he could. After a week he was no closer to an answer than when he started.

"Director, as I said before, you will have a report when I have something to report. Have you asked Commander Data or Doctor Crusher on their findings?" With the Enterprise-D being repaired, both had dedicated their time to assist Bashir in his research.

"Oh?" Sloan gave off an exaggerated smile, his fake chipper mood caused the doctor to roll his eyes. "Yes I have. Data isn't sure and Crusher is more confused." His chipper smile faded as quickly as it came, back now was the skeleton face and serious demeanor. "Tell me now Doctor, what do you know. Their reports are inconclusive."

Bashir looked at him doubtingly,

"They share my conclusions, and I share theirs," looking down and back to his experiments. Sloan smiled and looked around at the dingy medical bay, it housed the necessary equipment for the task it was otherwise expected to perform, but things were changing. The director snapped his fingers and two men from the hallway came in swiftly, jointly carrying a case that they placed on the nearest medical table. Sloan flicked them away with a finger-motion and walked over to the newly arrived box.

Bashir furrowed his eyebrows and joined the director at the table.

"And what is this? Sloan pushed the button and the top opened, inside were three dozen live mice. Bashir looked at the mice and then back to Sloan, "testing on live animals has been banned for centuries."

Sloan almost laughed at the Doctor's absurd statement.

"Either you do the testing, or my team does the testing. Who do you think is going to be more humane to the mice?" Sloan read the doctor correctly as he continued, "So, what do you know so far."

Bashir sat back behind his desk and ran his fingers through his dark hair. It was all a mystery, a very strange mystery.

"Well...the Klingons found the derelict ship about a hundred years ago. They estimated the ship to be millions, perhaps billions of years old. Onboard they found vials of inert white powder. They ran some tests on it, but there was an accident. Some powder spilled onto one of the workers, and it caused some mutations over the next several weeks. Small mutations, but nothing too severe. The Klingons realized this powder was actually making the patient stronger and faster. So more were tested, and before long, thousands had been subjected to the testing. But it went too far, and family members started to get infected, and ridges began to form on some of their heads." Bashir sighed as he wrapped up the story for Sloan, "...so, that's how the Klingon's got their ridges, and why their look changed over the last century. Bio-experimentation and now it's in their gene pool. Aggression, intolerance...nothing good."

"Go on." Sloan was keenly interested, so too, were the microscopic robots in his brain. They recorded everything Sloan experienced, uploading to the Daleks whenever a secure connection could be established.

"Well, the Klingon's are not doing well against the Dominions and Cardassians, they are losing a lot of warriors. So they decided to start experimenting again, and, well. I saw the outcome."

"I read only Sisko's report, what did you see?"

"They had exposed two-hundred warriors to this powder, and within a few weeks they changed into...well. I mean they were still Klingon but some of them had horns, others had tusks, and well, I think I even saw one with four arms. They are trying to create super-warriors, but the results are not predictable. They launched this, I guess you could call it a pod of mutated warriors at a besieged outpost somewhere in the Klanos system. What I know, is the warriors released onto the planet helped lift the siege. Apparently a thousand Cardassian soldiers were captured alive."

"So, what is this powder Julian?"

"I wish I knew. It's not organic, it's just made of regular elements, nothing out of the ordinary. I'm sure we could replicate it if we wanted too, I have no idea how the powder is actually creating the effects I'm seeing."

"Maybe it isn't." Bashir had a confused look on his face, "Maybe the Klingons are using another method, and have just thrown you on a wild goose chase? That's why I want tests done on live samples. Believe me Julian, Starfleet Medical wants this done too-"

"For what reason? So you can turn it into a weapon?"

"No Doctor! Because if they ever turn this on the Federation, we want to know what it is. Sisko told me you saved the lives of seventeen-hundred men and women on board the ships that engaged the Dominion just outside this station. The dead and injured were lined up across the entire deck, even some down in the storage bays. Is that not correct Doctor?!" Bashir said nothing, but that was enough for Sloan. "...So then, imagine if all those injured and dying men and women, on top of their injuries from the battle, had a biological weapon attacking their bodies, how many could you have saved then?! None! Help us save lives!" Sloan spun around and exited sickbay in a tissy. _Idiot doctor, does he not see? Does he not see the danger?!_ This outburst of passion was the genius of the Dalek puppet program. Intact was the passion, hatred, drive, or whatever else drove the subject-slave. The machines only giving vague but persistent direction, leaving everything else whole. There was no 'range' requirement either, unlike a Lensman who needed to be reasonably close, the machines were always present, always influencing the behavior.

Sloan sat down at his command terminal inside his quarters. It had been uniquely designed and set up for him, able to communicate with all branches of the Federation as well as clandestine teams and operatives scattered throughout the Alpha Quadrant. He slid his hand onto the biometric terminal for identification. There was a beep and the screens flickered on, his latest updates flashing before him. He considered each carefully before moving to the next.

 **-Report from A. Johnson, Romulus - Tal Shiar, Import / Export Clerk**

 **[[Rumours of Dioplaxican being sent to Romulus are false, their intelligence agency the Tal Shiar is also mystified as to the rumors]]** _If it's not going to Romulus, where the hell is it going?_

 **-Report from G. Jeffries, Romulus - Senate, Senate Clerk**

 **[[The Romulan Senate has just passed a Bill requiring the military to dismantle their old warbirds, the budget for the military seems to have been cut, fleet to be reduced by a 1/3rd]]** _Why in the world would they do that? Don't they see what is going on? I need to speak to our diplomats about this._

 **-Report from S. Shelly, Romulus - Tal Shiar, Analyst**

 **[[Most ship production is now carried out by various companies, with many shells and divisions, difficult to attribute raw material tonnage to production yields. I am still unable to get a clear picture of their ship building. A Changeling and foreign saboteur were killed by security inside a weapons testing facility in orbit, security has now been increased. Do not believe myself, Jeffries, Johnson have been discovered.]]**

 **-Starfleet Security / Changeling scanners discovered to be inoperable during snap audit on Spacedock 01, U.S.S Huffington, U.S.S. Yorgi, U.S.S. Colton, U.S.S ShelbyJames, U.S.S. Ferroget, Starbase 18, Starbase 12.** _As we suspected. Easy problem to fix with the Betazoids._

 **-Listening post 83 / Cardassian DeMilitarized Zone / Intercepted communication inside 'Zone', Attack on Cardassian Shipbuilding Facility 3 by Maquis or Colonists. Totally obliterated. Unverified.** _Good. Keep those bastards off balance, we need all the help we can get_

Another biomechanical scan locked the system and Sloan sat back, thinking. What had really happened was far more perverse than merely checking the latest intelligence updates. Upon scanning his hand into the identification reader, all the information stored in the micro-robots within his brain were being uploaded into an encrypted database. There they were downloaded by the Dalek's and analyzed scrupulously. If an 'update' to Sloan's behavior was necessary, an adjustment was sent and when the Director scanned in, the robots were updated and soon after his behavior adjusted. And like clockwork, after several more hours of report reading and briefings, Sloan 'suddenly' got an 'idea'. He now didn't like the reports coming out of Romulus. _Seems...fishy..._ His embedded agents, who he trusted implicitly were telling him that the Romulan's were not importing Dioplaxican and that they were disarming and cutting their budget. Normally, this report would be accepted and set aside for later. With stretched resources and a war to contend with, he could set it aside for now. But that was his old thinking, that was the human reasoning process. Now, he didn't like it one bit, or to phrase it correctly, the Dalek's didn't like it, and so more agents were assigned. _This mystery is going to be solved, what the hell are the Romulans doing?_ His newly found skepticism was helped along by the Dalek's knowledge of rogue traders making trips to and from Romulus, and strange occurrences throughout the galaxy on mining worlds and asteroids.

There was other business to attend to as well, the cloaked mines now placed in front of the DS9 wormhole were functioning perfectly. Manufactured by the engineers at Starfleet Intelligence and shipped from Earth and other outposts, they were a perfect fortification against incoming Dominion Fleets. The manufacturing facilities were deemed 'black sites' and only certain Starfleet Officers were aware of their existence, the mines being an unassailable defense keeping the Dominion fleets at bay. _We have to keep that technology secret, no information can leak…_ Sloan's thoughts while genuine, were in fact, not entirely accurate. One particular site, Cherno 44, hidden in the mountains of Wyoming and staffed by Dalek slaves procured Xyit Compound 823. The essential and only ingredient of a functioning psychic super-weapon. The current synthesis was 12%, and when it reached 100%, it would be immediately turned against the Q.

 _ **Suddenly and spectacularly, the room exploded.**_

 _ **!BOOM!**_

Sloan was thrown clear of his desk, sailing over twenty feet and crashing through a plate-glass coffee table. Alarm klaxons sounded and emergency lights snapped on. Sloan's eardrums were blown, and blood gushed from his back and forehead. Smoke was everywhere, and in his disoriented state he could feel hands grabbing him, helping him to his feet. It was his security detail that had been stationed outside. He strained to hear them, fighting through the dizziness and ringing ears to make out what they were saying,

"Sir! We need to-" "Leave." "-explosion" "-emergency."

Sloan stumbled out of the doorway and fell against the bulkhead in the corridor. To his left and right he could see people screaming and scrambling in every direction. Security officers were rushing in, while others were being carried away.

"-move!". "...airlock 7"

The small security force surrounding the Director, pushed forward through the billowing smoke and mass confusion. Blood soaked his uniform, caused by glass shards stuck in his back and shoulder. Sloan's usually bright red uniform was now a tattered mess. The group pushed forward, clearing people out of the way in an attempt to move the Director to safety. It was hard to see, emergency lights were sparse, and the flickering, sparking corridors were filling with bodies. Many collapsed and gasped for air, their lungs overwhelmed by smoke, while others rested or dragged the wounded.

"Picard!" Shouted Sloan. He could see the captain rushing forward with Worf and Data in tow. "What is happening!?" The captain didn't break stride. Instead, he rushed past him into the fray, both officers right on his heels. "Wait!" snapped Sloan to his pushy security detail. He leaned against the wall, fighting to stay conscious from a loss of blood and a nasty concussion. The ringing was still present, but he strained to hear what was being said in the smoke. He couldn't tell who was speaking, just a jumble of conversations and frantic calls for help.

"Help! Help!"

"Has anyone seen Deanna?"

"Data, move that beam!"

"Deanna! Deanna!"

"Has anyone seen Counselor Troi!?"

A vibration from Sloan's encrypted communicator caught his attention and he looked down to see. It was Mcgreggor, his trusted confidant within Section 31.

"Sloan. Go."

"Sloan! Are you getting the updates?"

"We got hit. An...explosion." Sloan spit a glob of blood onto the floor, wiping the excess with the back of his hand. Now he was getting dozens of messages, Council Members, Admirals, and branch directors were all trying to contact him.

"You did? Well, there are attacks going on all over the place, someone just had their throat cut at Starfleet Academy. The Andorians have declared planetary martial law, they are shutting their borders."

Sloan switched to another incoming caller, it was Admiral Ross,

"Admiral, what the hell is going on?"

"Looks like a mass attack across Federation territory. All hell is breaking loose. A security detail on the U.S.S Colton just arrested an ensign after he stabbed one of the science officers, an explosion went off in the Vulcan capital...we'll need each other on this."

"Send that son of a bitch on the Colton to my security holding in Tokyo. I'm asking all Admirals and branch directors to send anyone they arrest to that facility." Sloan could question them there, and if needed, send them to a secret Section 31 facility for torture and other forms of enhanced interrogation. _I'll rip their fingers off one by one to get the truth...or…ah...an even better idea..._

"Director Sloan to Council Member Anora." Anora is the Council Member representing the planet Betazed, and he was hoping to call in a few favors.

Many long seconds passed before his communicator crackled to life.

"A little busy right now Director."

"Council Member, we are being attacked, I need telepaths to question-"

"You are being attacked!?" rage evident in her voice, "My people are being attacked Luther! All Betazoids are being recalled to our home planet. We can keep them safe there. Out."

 **Several Hours Later**

"Is there anything else Captain?" asked Odo.

"No, thank you gentlemen," said Picard, offering a polite smile but dry smile. Odo and Dr. Bashir exited the dimly lit Ambassador Quarter's which served as Picard's temporary home. He was in no mood for lighting, or ambiance. A tragedy had struck the station. Deanna Troi was dead. With a heartfelt sigh, the Captain found himself looking out the spacious windows, the dim stars grew even fainter as he closed his eyes and relaxed. An explosion had ripped through her quarters just as the Counselor had settled down for dinner. In the hall, two dozen officers had been injured, as well as Director Sloan of Starfleet Intelligence who occupied the quarters next to hers. Within the Counselor's quarters the hull had ruptured during the blast, sucking Troi out into airless, deadly, space. Chief O'Brien had been able to transport her body directly to sickbay where Doctor Bashir and Crusher did all they could to stabilize her. Sadly even with all their experience nothing could be done. The concussive force had separated limbs from torso, the vacuum of space having little compounding effect.

Back on Earth all hell was breaking loose. Picard was getting updates by the minute covering the rest of the incidents throughout the Federation. Over fifteen-hundred attacks had been registered, but communication was slow from some outer Member Worlds and so the exact number would not be known for several days. Starship security teams had been given Alpha authority by Starfleet Command, allowing them to arrest anyone they deemed hostile to the Federation, up to and including Captains. The attacks without a doubt targeted telepaths. The majority had been blown up with improvised-explosive-devices, with a smaller number being shot, stabbed or bludgeoned. The Betazed Chamber of Rights and Freedoms had requested emergency protection for all remaining telepaths, with the goal of returning expatriates to their homeworld as soon as possible. No attacks had occurred on Betazed, with the prevailing theory that with so many telepaths, no treachery was possible.

The door chimed, and Commander Data was invited in.

"Captain, as you ordered, all Enterprise crew are reporting for duty. Repairs are 83.7% complete, we can depart on your order."

Picard motioned his first officer to take a seat across from him, but when the android sat down, there was silence. Data noticed that his Captain was just looking out the window, and decided based on his knowledge of human behavior, to say nothing.

"True genius resides in the capacity for evaluation of uncertain, hazardous, and conflicting information."

Data's eyes darted back and forth, his neck twitched as he identified the quote,

"Prime MInister Winston Churchill. Is that how you feel now Captain?"

"We are in a conflict that stretches for hundreds of lightyears in all directions. The Klingon's, despite their bluster, are losing. We are losing." Picard was rubbing his chin, looking out at the twinkling stars, deep in thought. "Our ships are staffed with the lifeblood of the Federation, it's people and citizens, each serving and fighting for a cause. The Dominion fill their ships with Jem'Hadar fighters, an endless supply of clones. Clones can be replaced, our people, our wonderful resource cannot." Data was nodding along, the captain continuing, "The Cardassian's are like us, not precisely, but they do cherish life, especially their families and children. Maybe... that is the key Data. Maybe we need to try and split their alliance."

"Captain, I believe that is a wise course of action. However, the conflict occurred when the Cardassian's attacked a Klingon outpost."

"So it would seem."

Data offered a puzzled look,

"You do not believe that?"

"It is hard to know what to believe at this point. There is so much disinformation being spread, did the Cardassian's really attack the Klingon's? Or was that an excuse for the Klingon's to attack because they were upset with the colonists migrating into their territory? And Data, why would the Cardassian's launch an attack on the colonist worlds after they started a war with the Klingon's? To draw us in? To draw the Dominion in? Was it revenge for what they may have perceived as a colonist terrorist attack on their capital?" Picard was trying to piece it all together, but no puzzle can be completed without all the pieces being known.

The truth is, the Cardassian's had not started the war against the Klingon's. It had been a setup by the Founders, with planted Cardassian blood on the blades of the dead Klingon warriors. A small fire to set off the powder keg that Thrawn knew as the Klingon thirst for war. Likewise, the attack upon the Federation Colony Epilus inside the demilitarized zone was supposed payback for the capital bombing. All part of Thrawn's master plan, to force the Federation into conflict and eventual breakup.

Picard knew none of this, but his mind toyed with many ideas, the humanitarian within him was seething at the implications of an extended war. His diplomatic request to Starfleet Command had been granted, and so it was time to act.

"Data, listen to me carefully. The Enterprise will be departing to Cardassia, you will not be aboard her. Instead, you are to return to Earth, where a special initiative is to be commenced."

"Sir?"

"Starfleet is growing desperate, and so their initiative to tie you into the public and private networks is almost complete. This access will be unfettered, you will be able to access both private and public communication between all citizens of the Federation. They are confident this system will not fall into the wrong hands, and you are hereby ordered to Earth. From there you will scan all communication to try and determine the best course of action."

"Captain. They want me to scan private communication as well?"

Picard hesitated, then looked back at the stars. "Yes. That is what Starfleet Command wants."

"Does that include private diaries, journals, medical records-"

Picard interrupted Data, he did not like the ramifications. Down what avenues it would lead them was unknown. It was the same ideology that made him reject Sloan's telepath initiative. _At what point do we turn into the enemy we so hope to defeat._

"Only you can judge what is morally or ethically justified to access. Use your best judgment."

Both men stood and shook hands. Picard knew the Federation was changing, morphing into something that they fought so hard against. He took a long, last, look out the window. Deanna and Will, two colleagues, two friends who were now gone. He then collected his things and headed towards the docking port where the Enterprise-D was attached. He knew he could change the war if the Cardassian's warmed his viewpoints, and he would have to use all his experience as a diplomat and Captain to do it.

 **Imperial Galaxy - Kuat Drive Yard**

Hidden within the organized, sprawling network of industrial stations circling the planet Kuat lay a cancer. A potent and deadly actor who had blended himself with the five-million workers and inhabitants of the giant shipyard. The system of interconnected production facilities dwarfed the planet at its center, with all manner of vehicle and machine being produced. Kinnison lay awake in his bunk, he had been there 3 ½ weeks, his true identity safe, unknowable. Minds had been altered by the _THOUSAND,_ paranoia and jealousy were now bubbling just below the surface _,_ it was nearly time.

Tomorrow, he would act.

Tomorrow, they would die.

For what is one to do against a Second Stage Lensman?


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Battle of Wits

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Cardassian Demilitarized Zone**

Captain Kirk's eyes never closed, rested or otherwise shut to recoup is mental energy. In the corner of his eye he saw the time, 3:04am, but he thought little of missed sleep. In his mind flashed the soon to be waged battle, a decisive battle for the control of the Demilitarized Zone. They would be outnumbered. Yes, more ships could be brought in but that would leave flanks open, or entire system-clusters exposed. _Somewhere, far beyond our Quadrant are the puppet masters, the Empire. Will they intervene? How much time do we need to waste fighting an unnecessary war? The Dalek...the real enemy must be faced sooner rather than later...perhaps by then it will be too late…_

A sigh escaped his mouth while turning to face his companion. Cienna should have been asleep, but she was not. Laying silently on her pillow beside him, she stared into his eyes with faint light glistening off her pupils. How long she had been awake he did not know, a welcome surprise met with a soft smile.

"Cienna...why are you awake?" he murmured.

"For the same reason that you are awake James. Tomorrow is a big day."

Kirk reached out and touched her cheek gently, he still could not believe this incredible woman.

"Yes it is. We will need each other."

"I know...and, I am concerned. I studied intelligence reports of the Dominion fleet with Mr. Spock. The battle will commence near a class six nebula, we are still too far off, but I do not believe your sensors can penetrate it." The Captain stared distantly, working the problem over.

"It. Might. Be a trap."

Cienna ran her fingers through his hair and down his cheek. She did not want to overstep her bounds, but considering their now blossoming relationship, that line was ever shrinking.

"Maybe. The enemy fleet is not moving position. It's forcing Starfleet's hand by constantly sending smaller attack groups out and engaging colonist worlds. Admiral Ross made it clear, to attack the fleet and destroy it."

"Ross. Maybe he is a changeling. The Empire is maneuvering everyone on...both sides."

Cienna offered a soft smile, her effort to cover up genuine worry wasn't enough.

"Cienna. We are going to pull through. We have too. If we fall, then the Federation... the galaxy falls."

"I know, which is why, it's time for me to get up." She slid out of bed and turned on the desk lamp across the room. "Coffee, black." The food replicator hummed to life while she pulled out schematics for her new field-coil design. "I plan on delivering far more than the Nomad probe ever did."

"Is there a danger?"

"Only if I cannot." Each understood the other with nothing else said for some time. Kirk lay down on his pillow and stared at the ceiling. He worked through a series of plans in his head, _we must survive this engagement. We must. The Metrons won't interfere with our petty wars...their only concern is the Dalek. If we do not survive to tell Starfleet of the Empire, after the Dalek is killed, then… the Federation still falls. We lose…_

Another issue weighed heavily on the Captain, if only in the background, for now. 'John.' _The monster, the friend, the ally, the enemy. A walking, talking... engine of destruction… and now Cienna. What a mistake I have made. My own weakness, my… own frailty._

Kirk rubbed his forehead slowly, he felt the stress mounting as the seconds ticked past. _If he was to find out… how would he react?_

"Cienna. What of John?"

She knew and felt the mistake, sitting in her throat, in her stomach and consciousness. 'John' and her had discussed this privately back on Earth over many lunches and dinners. He wished only for her to be happy and to someday find love. _I have._ But there is more to it than pure jealousy. The unknowable influence of the Old Ones within his mind. Cienna knew the book, knew they called to him, that their vision of events was not held at bay by a temporal disturbance. _Only Yog-Sothoth keeps them at bay..._

"James, we have made a grave mistake. Both of us, just not you, but I as well."

"Are you in danger?"

She shook her head, a deep sadness evident on her face.

"He will protect me until the last of his days. But I can never love him. He knows this, what worries me-"

"Is me." Kirk closed his eyes for the first time. _My weakness, my own weakness...how foolish have I been?_ "The trap the Dalek's were to set for him in the inter-dimensional zone back on Phobos, tell me about it."

"Well, 'John' was to guide me through the zone, he being killed and rejuvenated again and again; like he always had. The Dalek's and the Old Ones were to rejuvenate me. A lifetime within a time-exclusive inter-dimension. Eventually 'John' would need to speak the words to give the Old Ones more power within him. Certain spells give them more and more influence until the final spell, and the unlocking of the gate. That was the Dalek plan. Spells only being useful if the speaker genuinely believes what he says. That is what safeguards all reality. And now only 'John' myself and the Dalek know of the Necronomicon, we are the last."

"Where is the gate? Is it something? Or nothing? Some sort of pocket dimension?"

"Not even the Dalek's know."

"I am...entrusting 'John' to help protect this ship. The Dominion always sends raiding parties, at least...they have in the past. As you know my security team is prepared and loyal... but if I need more…" _he might be my only hope of protecting Cienna..._

For the rest of the early morning Cienna worked on the schematics and Kirk studied Klingon fleet engagements relayed to Starfleet. He noted vast amounts of suicide attacks as well as boarding parties. _We will need to keep our distance._

The time was now 10:40am and the turbolift doors snapped open allowing Kirk to march onto the bridge. His face was rock hard, he nodded to Spock before taking his seat.

"Ship-wide communication." The familiar hail filled the corridors, garnering everyone's attention. Crew stopped their tasks or discussions and waited. And for a few seconds there came no sound, just silence. Until,

"Attention crew. As you already know, our ship along with the 8th-Fleet will engage a joint Cardassian-Dominion force within the next fifteen minutes. This will be the largest fleet-battle Starfleet has ever participated in. I ask. That each of you performs his or her duty to their utmost ability. Your section heads have briefed you on possible boarding action. Every man and woman will be issued a phaser momentarily. Whether you went to the Academy for engineering, geology, astrophysics or medicine, we will need you to fight. It is okay to be afraid, to worry and be scared. Find strength in why you serve. Remember why you are fighting. Remember your loved ones, children and friends. We fight for all our freedom and prosperity… Captain out."

A solemn atmosphere now inhabited the Enterprise while minutes counted down, everyone felt ready to fight, clear as to their purpose aboard the ship and to a greater extent, humanity.

"We are now eight minutes from the 8th, sensors indicate both fleets are facing off, no weapons exchanged yet," reported Spock.

"Captain to engineering. Increase power."

 **Milky Way - Galactic Rim**

Grand Admiral Thrawn's command room buzzed and pulsed with excitement and anticipation. Lieutenants ran in and out delivering up-to-date telemetry while analysts busily interpreted all surrounding probe information. Standing front and center was the Grand Admiral, his eyes glued to the holographic table. A small blip drew closer and closer to the two fleets.

"Enterprise now traveling at warp 8.5," reported Captain Needa. Thrawn said nothing, his eyes fixated on the blip. Over the last few days all manner of hell swept the Imperial ranks. No stone was left unturned, no lead not entertained. The operation to kill the Betazoids was crucial, and due to their diligent planning, a complete success. The few survivors banding together towards their homeworld, _their final resting place_ smirked Thrawn. Captured Changelings and Bounty Hunters of which there are few, _will soon be rescued by Darth Maul in Tokyo, Earth._

But all was not rosy, Lord Vader had seen to the deployment of a thousand more Imperial ships to the Milky Way. The Rebel incursion had brought many Imperial deaths, one of which was Admiral Westin, commander of the blockade. Vader had force choked him during a holonet call from across the galaxy. Since then, Imperial planners continued to present counters to a possible confrontation with the Rebel navy. Ideas and strategies varied depending whom they were trying to appease, but the general consensus was thus. Only contact with the Federation or Bajorans posed a problem to the conquering of Earth. What initially seemed like a death blow to the Imperial campaign now seemed more likely a headache. Thrawn saw no reason why the Rebels would pick the Alpha Quadrant races, let alone the Federation, over any other, _they may even engage us directly… even better._

"Sir, Enterprise is now angling five degrees upward, traveling at Warp 9.2,"

 _What?_ Thrawn stepped closer and leaned onto the holographic table. The blip was changing course ever slightly, moving upwards, the new telemetry line showing it to pass 'above' the two fleets.

"Grand Admiral, Enterprise now at Warp 10.8. At its present upward trajectory and speed it appears they'll be six billion kilometers above the battle."

"Bring up Constitution class." Detailed diagrams and capabilities stolen from Starfleet records flashed up. Thrawn looked it over, studying it. _That's what I thought...it should not be able to do that...how?_ Grabbing the secure communications mic, the Grand Admiral spoke to the Founder commanding the 'known' fleet. "Founder. This is Thrawn. Break off Cruiser Veenorah, Tilu, Geerand, Joshow, Uuula, Miko, Reezzon, as well as Dreadnaught Uto, Linar and Bolson. Intercept the Enterprise. Have ships go to maximum warp. Do not let the Enterprise outflank you." The encrypted message delivered by way of probe droid took several seconds to reach its destination. To Thrawn's surprise, something other than an acknowledgment came back.

"It is just one ship, a hundred years old. We have a formidable fleet. Should we not just keep position?"

"Do as you are told!" Thrawn smashed the mic down and adjusted his collar. He did not want to allow Kirk any breathing room.

"Enterprise now at warp 12.3, continuing upward climb." Officers both senior and junior looked at each other in complete bafflement. _How can this be?_ "Course adjustment detected. Standby."

The holographic display blipped and blooped, the Enterprise now far above the designated battlefield; the holographic display continuously shrinking to allow for an accurate distance representation. At eye level was the two globular fleet beacons, squared off and maneuvering to gain an advantage. Twenty feet above with a dotted line extending upward moved the Enterprise. Thrawn looked at it ominously, _Kirk...what are you planning?_ The nine Dominion ships 'climbed' higher on an intercept course, only a few million kilometers from their target. More commands were issued to the Commanding Founder, and small adjustments here and there to the fleet formation, shield modulations, and other items.

"Enterprise now at warp 14. Grand Admiral, Enterprise is making its attack run!"

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - DeMilitarized Zone**

Bridge plates vibrated and power whined as the Enterprise ripped through space at warp 14. Cienna's modifications to the warp output surpassed even her stringent expectations. Never before had the ship traveled so quickly, the stars no longer streaking but blurring and deforming.

"Mr. Sulu, execute." Another surge of power injected itself into the warp nacelles.

"Structural integrity approaching critical," shouted Spock over the deafening noise.

"Hold her together!" barked Kirk into his armrest, the message destined to Cienna and Scotty in engineering.

The intercepting ships coming upward from below found it impossible to adjust their trajectory fast enough to compensate for the ever-increasing speed of the 100-year-old Constitution. Undershooting their target by ten-million kilometers, they now floundered uselessly many billions of kilometers from the engagement zone. Sulu executed the predetermined sequence and the Enterprise slowly rotated onto her 'back.'

"Warp 15.5…..warp 16….warp 16.5…" Spock was reading out the climbing warp levels like one would call out the rising floors of an elevator. Now downward the Enterprise plunged towards the Dominion-Cardassian fleet. The ship elongating against the backdrop of twisted shapeless stars.

"Maximum power to phasers. Tie-in phaser control, the computer is to control attack. All decks prime. Spock. Countdown."

"Within phaser range in 10 seconds, 9...8...7….6….5….4…"

Now traveling at tremendous speed, the noise level of rushing power bombarded the bridge crew's ears and sense, every officer licked their lips and wiped their brow, **this was it**.

Captain Sisko commanding the U.S.S Defiant and lead ship for the 8th Fleet monitored the situation closely, all communication attempts with the Enterprise had been ignored. The knot in his stomach now the size of a tennis ball continued to grow. Captain Kirk had refused all contact, or any semblance of planning. Sisko and the rest of the fleet did not know what was going on, but somewhere, deep down in Sisko's subconscious, he cheered the Enterprise on. Captain Kirk was one of his childhood heroes and Sisko thought nothing more fitting than to follow him into battle. And so he waited for a signal, and perhaps more. Hope. Just as a small smirk crept onto the right side of his mouth, he got it.

The lead Dominion Dreadnaught exploded in a titanic blast. The modified ultra-powered phasers, a brainchild of Cienna, cut straight through the defensive shields of the enemy flagship. Somewhere in the galaxy Thrawn was reeling from the unexpected and unbelievable loss of his Command Founder. In unison the 8th Fleet lunged forward with slashing phasers and pulverizing torpedoes. Likewise, Cardassian and Dominion ships retaliated. In the opening exchange, two dozen starships on either side erupted into flame or exploded into expanding clouds of superheated gas.

 **Milky Way - Galactic Rim**

Thrawn was nose to nose with Needa, his red eyes boring like lasers into the Captain's floundering face.

"Bring me the encrypted Vorta communicator. I will disguise our signal as a Founder's. Hurry!"

The Grand Admiral turned back towards the holographic display, his temper no longer suppressed by cold-confidence. He watched the Enterprise breakaway from the battle group and start its long arc. It's seemingly lengthy billion-kilometer turn gave little time for a counter-strategy at warp 17.3. On both the left and right of the holographic display were Dominion and Cardassian ship call signs flashing green or red depending on remaining shield strength.

"Grand Admiral, Enterprise has changed course, it's heading towards the Nebula."

 _Impossible, they cannot know…_

"Raise Commander Mortil aboard the Dreadnaught Hunaro, encrypted frequency eleven."

"Open."

"Commander Mortil, this is Grand Admiral Thrawn. Under no circumstance is your hidden fleet to move. No matter what happens or you think is happening. Set shields to maximum power, run in silent mode until you are informed otherwise."

"Yes Grand Admiral," communication cut and the command room watched the Enterprise with stressed-anticipation. No one spoke or otherwise made a noise. Only constant blipping filled the echoey room.

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

"Detecting multiple salvos of photon torpedoes, he is targeting the Nebula."

Thrawn jammed down into the microphone

"Do not move. Do not respond!"

The Enterprise broke off and began a slow arc upwards, turning back towards the battle.

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - DeMilitarized Zone**

"Torpedo's detonating Captain,"

"Very good Mr. Chekov. Spock, anything?"

"No movement detected, no indication we struck an object. Sensors unable to penetrate the energized particles." Kirk gritted his teeth, he had hoped to ruffle some feathers but it seemed the Nebula was empty.

"Bring us back around Sulu."

Turning upward the Enterprise began its long journey back towards the engagement, all counter attacks upon it during the first 'run' had missed.

"Open communication to U.S.S. Defiant," seconds later Benjamin Sisko filled the viewer. "Captain Sisko, I'm sorry I couldn't communicate with you earlier, I could not risk the Dominion discovering our plan. Continue your attack, I will help where I can." On board the Defiant bridge, small flames flashed along the rear bulkhead and control surfaces.

"I'm glad to see you Captain Kirk, we are taking one hell of a-" a consol burst in the background, sending an ensign tumbling to the ground. "...beating. The Dominion and Cardassians are using sophisticated sphere formations, very organized. They are maneuvering in and out to help keep the damaged ships from our sights. We are taking heavy losses."

"Acknowledged, we will increase our attack, Kirk out."

From the vantage point of a lowly Cardassian Captain aboard his ship the situation felt chaotic. Caught between an ever-increasing comingling-quagmire of fleets and a shooting star picking them off one by one, the choice as to which to focus proved difficult. His command interface flashed with updating course adjustments, filtered down through Dominion ships but ultimately originating from the Super Star Destroyer Vigilant eighty-thousand light years away.

"What is the Enterprise course and speed?" asked Captain Ducet, his worried mind unable to focus on the task at hand.

"Current heading is 232 mark 4 at warp 17.3. Correction. 232 mark 2...232 mark 1...231 mark 9...231 mark 7...sir it's turning towards the fleet."

"On screen."

The viewscreen changed to a blurred star field sweeping past from left to right, the visual scanner fighting to keep the target in focus. The Enterprise was dead center, almost skimming along the surface of the streaking stars. Over the next stressful-seconds, she began banking inward towards the Cardassian vessel. Ducet closed his eyes, his second in command yammering out a hopeless order in a vain attempt to repel the coming attack.

"Set shields to frontal-" the viewer flashed a brilliant blue, the last image any Cardassian aboard the ship ever saw. The impossible-phaser sliced through shield and hull plating like a hot knife through butter. Striking the ship's reactor and continuing through into another, a dozen kilometers away.

Within the Enterprise engineering bay, Cienna kept screaming at Scotty to make endless adjustments to the field-coils, essential for their continued assault.

"Scotty, set all A and B Rods to invert levels, keep your eye on coil A13, it just broke loose."

"Oh for damn blazes!" Scotty shot up the ladder as quick as a whip and made the necessary adjustments. He was not upset in the slightest. He marveled at the orders Cienna issued, each and every command an absolute necessity. Never taking her eyes from the central control station, Cienna stood as master and commander of the project.

"Good Scotty, good. The slightest misstep and we go up like a supernova. Cienna to bridge."

"What is it Cienna?" asked the Captain, stress evident in his voice.

"Modified Nomad reroute systems are in full effect. We can run this all day, thanks to Mr. Scott," smiled Cienna towards the dripping wet Scotsman.

The Enterprise 'pulled up' from its attack run with enemy phaser and torpedo fire licking past. Spock started to notice a pattern within the enemy fleet, he saw their formations condensing, shrinking into smaller pockets.

"Enemy fleet is adjusting formation." Not immediately apparent to the Federation 8th were the precise and carefully crafted orders of Grand Admiral Thrawn. Across the Galaxy he had devised an 'on the spot' tactical strategy, one designed to address the super speed of the Enterprise. Now flashing upon the command boards of the Dominion and Cardassian ships ran new orders, new configurations, and quickly they began to implement them.

"It seems the enemy fleet is embedding themselves inside the Federation fleet, they are keeping our ships on the outside, we may not be able to target them accurately on our next run."

"Loss report Mr. Spock?"

"One-hundred and four, correction... one-hundred and five losses. The Saratoga broke in half just now. Enemy fleet has sustained similar losses. But remember Captain, they have more ships than we do."

"Open hailing frequencies to the entire battlefront, friend and foe." Uhura worked her controls and nodded to the Captain.

"Attention Dominion and Cardassian Fleet. This is Captain James T. Kirk of the United Starship Enterprise. Your losses. As well as our losses are climbing. Every second more and more are killed. To what end? Let us draw down our weapon systems and end this conflict."

Silence. After a deep sigh, Kirk relayed the last of his message,

"If you do not stop-"

"Attention Captain Kirk and the rest of the Federation fleet. For the crimes for which the Federation has committed, including the assassination of the Detapa Council, the arming of Colonists and the bioengineering of terror weapons for the Klingons; we find you guilty. There will be peace, but only in your destruction."

"Identify yourself?"

Silence. The voice unknown to Kirk was Thrawn's, sent from across the galaxy by way of probe droid and broadcast from Dominion ships. Another half-minute passed with no further communication.

"Coming around for another strafe, within phaser range in 10 seconds. Computer is indicating no target available," reported Sulu. Thrawn's tactic of burying the enemy fleet inside the globulous cluster of Starfleet's had worked. A new attack strategy now needed to be implemented, one that would play straight into Thrawn's hand.

"Sulu, prepare to cut warp, tie in all excess energy into phaser and shields. Ready. Set...cut now!" Kirk enthusiastically jumped from his chair as the viewer filled with hundreds of ships exchanging fire. "Form up with Group B, they are taking heavy damage. Set computer to fire continuously once we enter the inner sector. Take us in." The Enterprise dove into the fray, small and large pieces of debris bouncing harmlessly off its shields. Starfleet ships both large and small, damaged and destroyed raced past. The damage felt surreal, never before had so many lost their lives in such a short period of time, but death continued. Blue streams of phaser fire erupted outward from the phaser banks of the Enterprise, both Cardassian and Dominion ships exploding into candescent fireballs upon contact. No shield able to repel such concentrated energy existed in the stores of either race.

"Captain, nine Dominion attack ships forming up on our flank, recommend-"

 _ **WHAM!**_ Every officer on the bridge lay flat on his or her back. All nine had successfully completed their kamikaze runs, exploding against the upper port shields of the Enterprise. Sparks flew and smoke filled the air,

"Damage report Mr. Spock?"

"Shields holding. Fighters appear to have been filled with high explosive warheads. Sensors now picking up subspace interference originating from many Dominion ships. I do not believe we can go to warp if needed. We cannot form a warp bubble in this interference."

Kirk mulled it all over, _they don't have enough ships to sustain that level of kamikaze attack… our shields are too strong… unless…_ An alarm sensor rang out and ship-to-ship communication erupted. The trap sprung.

"Detecting eighty-five Dominion cruisers and fifteen Dominion Dreadnaughts exiting the Nebula. Approaching at warp 9.5, estimated time of arrival, four minutes."

Kirk's face went from concerned to outright worried, _We fired into the Nebula… our attack invoked no response...if they had… we would have cut them to ribbons..._

"I have underestimated the commander of their forces. I will not do that again." A giant jolt shook the bridge, this time a cruiser finished its suicide run.

"Shields at 77%. Dominion boarding parties reported throughout the fleet, sixteen ships unable to continue adequate combat activities. Jim. We are losing." Then to drive the point home, a desperate hail came from the U.S.S. Defiant. She was surrounded, her escorts having been destroyed. On the viewer Captain Sisko looked in bad shape, one eye closed the other bloodshot.

"Captain Kirk-" coughing and shielding his eyes from creeping flames. "-Win this war for us." The screen cut and in the distance a bright flash of white filled the visual spectrum, the Defiant's warp core making it painless. Captain Sisko was dead.

But there was no time for remorse or reflection. Two violent jolts shook the Enterprise bridge sending a young crewman rolling around in agony, a superheated conduit scorching his face. Kirk ran over and knelt down beside the screaming ensign, his face a mess of boils and pot marks.

"Medical team to the bridge!"

Despite the impressive power being generated from engineering, the endless battery of concentrated fire and kamikaze runs began taking its toll. Concussive blasts, toxic gas, and broken electrical lines represented real dangers to the crew. On the bridge Kirk's eyes could have cut diamond, his mind thinking, processing all the information.

"Spock, can you confirm the Metron's received all information. Do they know all that we know?"

"Affirmative." The bridge rocked again, the shield grid buckling under the stress of impact.

 _The needs of the many..._

"Uhura, signal our fleet, they are to retreat as soon as the subspace interference is cut."

"Affirmative Captain, but... a message coming in from a Dominion dreadnought, they are asking for your personal surren-"

"Send this to the 8th Fleet. Prepare to withdraw, the Enterprise will destroy the subspace interference generators, go to warp on my signal. For those ships whose warp core is knocked out, lower your shields and you will be towed by an escort."

Spock left his post and approached the Captain's chair.

"If we are to target all ships in that fast an interval, our phaser coils will burn out."

"Bridge to phaser room. Set fire positions to maximum, we need rapid retargeting. Expect full phaser burnout. Evacuate control-room once complete." The crackly voice of an ensign came back, a few moments later they indicated ready.

"New enemy fleet will be here in one minute, detecting generators aboard their ships" reported Spock, now back at his science station.

"Mr. Sulu, target all ships housing the subspace generators, set computer to fire in rapid succession, target their reactors." Buttons bleeped and knobs throbbed bright colors, critical seconds ticked past, the window was closing. "Hurry Mr. Sulu...hurry."

"Enemy fleet will be here in thirty seconds…"

 **BOOM!** A concussive blast ripped through the lower decks of the Enterprise, sending men and women flying in all directions. The fire-computer set on auto-targeting had been able to destroy six out of seven approaching attack ships, the last plunging headlong into the starboard side shield. The two-man fighters, explicitly set for suicide missions by Thrawn were all packed with thousands of pounds of high explosives. Designed specifically to destroy larger Starfleet capital ships, their task now refitted to suit the battle theater.

"Damage report?"

"Shields down, impossible to get them back, " shouted Spock over the clamoring alarms.

Kirk pushed between Chekov and Sulu, depressing the automated targeting sequence he had ordered.

"Fire!"

In quick succession, the full and unfettered power of Cienna's devices flowed through the phaser banks. Within four seconds, all subspace inhibitors and the alien crews assigned to each floated as component atoms among the rest of the battlescape. The remaining Starfleet ships detecting their opportunity and warping out immediately, some under their own power, others towed by way of tractor beam. For the Enterprise, it was too late. With all available energy fed into the phaser banks, Cienna was unable to channel it back into the warp drive before the new subspace inhibitors activated on the incoming Dominion ships. With phaser coils burnt out and photon torpedoes running low, they were trapped, but undeterred.

"Captain, enemy ships closing in,"

Kirk walked over to Spock and spoke softly, each murmuring back and forth, formulating a plan.

"...yet they haven't attacked us since our shields dropped…" noted Kirk.

 **Milky Way - Galactic Rim**

Only air could be heard cycling through the nostrils of the piping-hot Grand Admiral, analysts and senior officers remained silent, waiting and watching. Thrawn stood in front of the holotable, his hands firmly clasped behind his back; there he stayed for another thirty seconds. His plan to isolate the Enterprise had worked, but the goal of obliterating the Federation 8th Fleet had not.

"Captain Needa, how many Federation ships escaped to warp?"

"Ahem…" the captain cleared his throat, "One hundred and one. We did manage to destroy two-hundred and-"

"Instruct B-Group to implement my boarding party plan. Remember, I want Kirk, Cienna, and the soldier alive. Have the boarding ships stay clear of the forward torpedo launcher, I suspect it is still functional. To ensure no more surprises have the Enterprise held by a minimum of six tractor beams on its aft quarter. Without shields, it will not be able to break the hold."

Thrawn now switched topographical maps to the surrounding sectors. He eyed it carefully, paying particular attention to distances and travel speeds. It was time for the final push.

Snapping his fingers, a young lieutenant came scurrying, standing front and center waiting for orders.

"Lieutenant, instruct mixed-fleet-four to move towards Betazed. All power systems to warp drive, run at maximum. Cut life support for non-critical Jem'Hadar if necessary. Remind the Vorta commander that I expect immediate planetary bombardment and then a kamikaze run along the major fault line leading to the Supervolcano Manuush. Dismissed." Turning his attention back to the immediate tactical situation, his eyes narrowed in on the sole remaining Starfleet blip. The Enterprise kept moving, firing, maneuvering, and careening recklessly through the thousands of kilometers of debris. _This man does not quit…_

"Enterprise launching another salvo of torpedoes… detonating along the upper shield of the Dreadnaught Hunaro. We are receiving a request to board from Commander Mortil."

"Tell him to send a wave of Jem'Hadar to test the waters. Once he feels confident, all one-hundred commandos, including himself are authorized to beam over."

In order for the Jem'Hadar to beam from their ships over to the Enterprise, two factors need to be fulfilled. One, the lowering of the Enterprise shields and subsequent lowering of the Jem'Hadar's. For a transporter beam to go from ship to ship or ship to planet, all shields must be down and the beam free to pass. Fortunate for the Jem'Hadar, the Enterprise shields had been battered down, and all that remained was the lowering of theirs.

"Jem'Hadar are commencing their raid, standby…" Thrawn eyed the communications man and then back to the holographic display. He watched as one of the Dominion cruisers following the Enterprise lowered its shield to transport, but as it did, disaster struck. The bridge and 40% of the hull in the command and control section exploded outward; the lifeless ship then banking uncontrollably into the port shield of another. Thrawn furrowed his brow, _how… interesting…_

"Instruct another cruiser to beam a team over, have Commander Mortil hold position until I give the all clear." Sure enough, a moment later another cruiser who lowered shields exploded from within.

Thrawn pressed a few controls and narrowed in on ship-to-ship readings, studying it intently.

"The boarding parties are making it aboard, it seems...our clever captain is beaming photon torpedoes onto the bridges of the ships that lower their shields to transport. Interesting." _Impressive..._

"Grand Admiral. We believe the Enterprise is trying to create a modified warp bubble. Detecting subspace distortion fields."

Beep…

Beep…

Beep…

Thrawn watched the Enterprise continue to fight, salvo after salvo of photon torpedoes smacked into the shields of the Dominion fleet. No return fire could be risked, without shields, even a glancing blow could detonate the warp core. _We must Capture him...but we are running out of time._

"Grand Admiral, report coming in. They are having trouble getting a tractor beam lock on the Enterprise, it is moving in and out of the debris field, there is too much interference."

"Captain Needa, send word to Commander Mortil, tell him to prepare to transport, but only after the cruisers lower their shields. Now then. For the main course." A grin now spread across the Grand Admiral's face. _You can only run for so long Captain, inevitably, you will fall to me._

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - DeMilitarized Zone**

"Kirk to torpedo room."

"Torpedo room here."

"You men keep that shop running, we've set computer to auto target and fire, keep those torpedoes loaded until you run out. Then, take up arms and defend engineering with the two teams already there."

"Acknowledged."

Cranks, pistons, blood, sweat, and tears drove the Enterprise Photon Torpedo room to maximum capacity. Crew ran their machines to the limit, as four torpedoes shot out of their tubes four more were loaded into place. Shudders, jolts, and all manner of distraction did not stop the endless cycling of firing gates and torpedo conveyors. Laying dead at the feet of the crewman were two dead Jem'Hadar fighters, both cut down by phaser fire a moment ago. The ship was on red alert and out in the hallway, screams of wounded personnel echoed throughout.

On the bridge, Kirk lunged out of his chair to deliver a judo chop to the neck of a just materialized intruder.

"Spock!" shouted Kirk from across the bridge, "Lockout main computer. Set standing order 44-" Two more Jem'Hadar beamed aboard the bridge. Two quick blasts, one from Kirk another from Sulu vaporized them instantly. But trouble brewed all over, security teams reported intruders searching room to room, others attacking critical junctions or facilities. "... Set standing order 4401, the computer is to continue to fire and evade, fire and evade. Even if we are all incapacitated. Encrypt the main computer."

"Torpedo room to bridge, we are all out, so are transporters. Reporting to engineering."

Sweat was pooling on the face of the Captain, his eyes hard as stone, looking, analyzing the situation. Three attackers had entered the bridge so far, _but more are sure to come now that we stopped transporting..._ The hiss of the turbolift doors caught his attention, but it was too late. A blast from a Dominion rifle hit Chekov square in the back, death was instant. There was no time to check his health or to pull him to safety. Hand to hand combat broke-out, with red shirts and officers alike, punching, kicking, clawing and judo chopping anything and everything foreign and deadly. More and more came crashing onto the bridge, through jeffrey's tubes or transporter. Chaos and close-quarters combat stretched from bow to stern with no end in sight.

"Engineering..." spat Kirk, his shirt ripped and a droplet of blood in the crack of his mouth. He had just finished clobbering a Jem'Hadar fighter, the waves felt endless.

"Jim!" came Cienna's cry. In the background he heard phaser fire, yelling, and screaming. His already short breath instantly left him, his heart stopped, and a knot the size of a basketball appeared in his stomach and throat. "Jim, new soldiers are beaming aboard, we are holding them back but there is a lot. Some are wearing white armor and helmets. Watch it Scot-" her communicator cut.

"Cienna! Cienna do you copy?"

Silence.

 _Stormtroopers._ Snatched by Kinnison from the minds of hundreds of Bounty Hunters and then shared with Kirk during their long and complete information transference; he knew this was serious. _They must want…they have not fired on us since our shields dropped… the Empire must want something… or…_ Kirk's eyes widened, _SOMEONE._

"Kirk to John."

Silence.

"John...come in."

Silence.

"John?…. John? Are you in engineering? Is Cienna safe? John!?" Kirk looked at each officer on the bridge, finally stopping at Chekov, dead on the floor. _My ship, my crew… Cienna... we've got to win._

"Spock, hold the bridge. I'm heading to engineering. Lock computer and take defensive positions, set all function to auto. It seems they are sending stormtroopers."

"Captain, I must protest," Spock's bloody fingers, evidence of every officer's struggle, worked the controls, "...Internal sensors indicate the corridors are filled with dozens of Jem'Hadar fighters and even more Stormtroopers, it is illogical to-"

"You have your orders Mr. Spock." Both men staring at each other, a smile forming on the face of the captain, "Stay safe my friend," and with that he dashed into the turbolift.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

A Mole's Mole

 **Imperial Galaxy - Kuat Drive Yards**

Stale smoke and dank fumes lofted like clouds within the dingy bar. Among the hundreds of establishments servicing the five-million workers and inhabitants of Kuat Drive Yards, this represented the worst. Generally avoided by the permanent workers, it attracted mainly traders and now bounty hunters ever since the Imperial campaign began rotating them in and out eight months ago.

Tal-Nuk-Toor moved slowly through the crowd, squeezing between patrons and tables, his eyes exuberating full intoxication. Toor tried blinking away the blurry images, resting for a moment against a table to right his balance. The Imperial Officer Forsooth sat at the bar a few dozen steps ahead, talking and laughing with some colleagues. A small belch escaped Toor's mouth before he shouted profanity into the air. Music cut and everyone turned slowly towards the drunken bounty hunter.

"You son..of ...a bitch! You bought her a drink! I know you did, I saw you. I…" Tal-Nuk-Toor was wobbling something fierce as he charged forward, bowling over a smaller patron not quick enough to get out of the way. The Imperial officer stood quickly and caught Toor's flimsy punch in mid-air.

Captain Forsooth yanked him closer and hissed into his face,

"Tal, for the last time, I did not buy her a drink. Piss off!" A hard shove sent Toor headfirst into a table leg; drinks came pouring down and broken glass littered the floor. _Excellent. Good._

Kuat Drive Yard resembled an enormous spider web stretching for hundreds of kilometers in all directions. Nestled safely within the center lay planet Kuat, where most workers lived; traveling into orbit daily or weekly to report for their shifts or overtime work.

"I..Hate you! I...I…" Toor lost track of his thoughts and stumbled out into the walkway connecting to other parts of the humongous complex. "Wha- What are you looking at?" continued Toor to a few passersby. _And now to make sure this gets caught on camera, a few more steps...perfect._ Toor smashed through the doorway of another establishment and lay unconscious half under a table. Before long two stormtroopers dragged him through the corridors towards a detention cell. _Best cell is B11, lots of camera coverage,_ noted Kinnison as he allowed the men to drag him along the ground. His body was thoroughly intoxicated, spending several hours drinking with some other 'hunter friends. A Lensman's mind operated independently from the physical brain, the alcohol having little to no effect on his 'real' thought process.

Between sports games, relaxation, prostitutes, drinking, eating and frequent visits to the firing range; no one suspected him of anything other than Tal-Nuk-Toor, infamous hired-gun. For thirty days Kinnison continued to blend in, and for those days the minds of the officers and security personnel in critical positions had been altered. A repercussion for such wide-scale adjustments would normally be found in the nine-thousand percent jump in medications related to paranoia symptoms. Unfortunately for the Empire, those records were destroyed by unaware nurses. Equally unfortunate was the low-dosage administered to fix such rampant symptoms, now at epidemic yet hidden proportions.

"Alright Toor you stupid drunk, sleep it off. You'll be out of here tomorrow, on your way to, well, god knows where..." said the detention center manager in passing. A moment later, Kinnison hit the ground hard, tossed like a sack of potatoes into the cold cell. _Perfect._ _Now for a bit extra…_ The center manager turned to walk away but instead cursed himself, it seems the intoxicated Toor had wet himself and was soiling the surrounding cell. "Someone get a cleanup crew down here!" Stomping boots and curses cutoff when the door slammed shut. The cell block manager had it 'up to here' with his day. He swore up and down he had seen three strange occurrences over the last two weeks. In two cases, a cell bench moved on its own, the other was a case of mistaken identity. He had pulled his blaster on a guardsman who he thought had shifted into a vixen he was having an affair with. All were unreal, all had not happened. But thanks to the power of the Lensman, these 'life-like' memories, indistinguishable from 'real' created paranoia for thousands. Everyone's visions or conversations differed but a yet to be revealed station-wide constant existed in each; the Founders had infiltrated the Kuat Drive Yards.

Yesterday a new batch of bounty hunters arrived at the drive yards, and what Kinnison stole disturbed him greatly. The Imperial campaign to kill all the Betazoid's was swift, brutal and surprisingly thorough. Many 'hunters Kinnison probed had either personally set explosive charges, or shot and in some cases stabbed a telepath. Without the mind-reading of senior officers, Kinnison did not yet see the 'master' plan but many puzzle pieces rested on the board. _Some bounty hunters have orders to eventually track down and kill Founders, a double cross, interesting… When? And how?_ Other strange occurrences circulated in the minds of the newly arrived. Kinnison could not yet identify a pattern, but in particular sectors of the Milky Way, there seemed, at least to him to be recruitment efforts. _But who? Who is trying to recruit them?_ This did bother Kinnison a great deal, it reminded him of his nemesis from his original Universe. The pirate organization Boskone, a front name for a sophisticated multi-galactic campaign overseen by the Ploorians to destroy his civilization. _But we won, we killed them._ His mind sorted, categorized, analyzed, and dissected everything. _A recruitment effort across the entire Milky Way? Who could organize something like that? Will have to look into this… when I have time._

Refocusing on his current task, he re-ran the strategy. Takeout the primary probe droid factory as well as significant industrial center, forcing the Empire to withdraw or suspend its campaign. _Hopefully the belief that the Founders have infiltrated their ranks and are in league with the Rebels will exacerbate their position._ The Rebels moving into the Milky Way was a pleasant surprise for the Lensman when he first learned of it. The information was not widespread, but rumors circulated among Imperial comrades. _The sooner we can stop their push the sooner we can coordinate against the Dalek directly…_

Laying in urine-soaked pants and a vomit drenched shirt, his mind prepped for the finale. Slow deliberate adjustments to mind and mechanisms had taken weeks. Stormtroopers continuously found their orders more drastic, more specific to anti-spy activities. Now outfitted with heavy gear and assigned to key locations across the station, they are to prove indispensable in spreading chaos. Engineers working with highly volatile power plant components erroneously installed the wrong mechanisms days ago. _Many will have to die, but not all._ Emergency Shutdown protocols had 'mysteriously' been re-written, all small cogs in an enormously complicated clock.

 _Alright Kinnison, you old space hound. Here. We. Go._

At the speed of thought, several images, misdirections, and oversights implanted themselves into the putty-like minds of officers and stormtroopers. The images, sounds, or otherwise, pushed the person over the edge; their minds having already been twisted and eased along. In Core Output Testing B23 a junior engineer shouted for help as a shape-shifting alien squirmed into the restricted assembly area. A few dozen kilometers away, another 'strange' sighting put everyone on alert. The sound of thunderous boots filled the extensive network of corridors and production facilities as thousands of stormtroopers rushed off to problem areas. Kinnison's sense of perception and telepathic power directed people and alien in real time, _now then…_

Many dozens of levels below the holding cell, a stormtrooper standing at his post activated a thermal detonator on his belt. Moving a few steps to his right he now stood between his squad mates and a cooling pipe for a gravity anchor, one of thirteen for the giant complex. No one's mind registered the beeping, only at the last second did a trooper frantically radio his commander,

"NC1088 in section 33! Shapeshift-" the line went dead. A blast, propagated by many secondary explosions ripped through hull and flesh alike. Red lights mixed with sirens whirled, and a general order to investigate flashed into the helmets and communicators of all available personnel. Not waiting for the Empire to catch its collective breath, Kinnison sent another telepathic signal, this time an officer in Command and Control.

"Shapeshifter! Shoot it!" Inside the control center everyone pulled their weapons and started blasting a junior officer. The riddled, helpless wight collapsed onto the floor, butchered. Across the sprawling complex every security station and guard watched the bulletins illuminate the screens.

 **Priority Alert! Priority Alert! Code 44!**

 **-Six confirmed shapeshifters - B-Level 11**

 **-Four confirmed shapeshifters - B-Level 12**

 **-Rebel activity - B-Level 13,15,18**

 **-Double-Agent caught in Control Room J3**

 **-Stormtrooper Squad AA13, confirmed as shapeshifters - eliminate**

All messages were real, as real as the station security chief's belief in the reports streaming into his office. Illusions, every last one of them, sent in by other staff who "positively" identified a shapeshifter or rebel spy. The double-agent and stormtrooper squad as well as dozens of other alerts and warnings all planted in the chief's head in real time. Panic swept through the station like a brush fire, the weeks of subtle manipulation paying dividends as each second passed. Men's mental fortitude snapped like toothpicks, blasting colleagues, workers, and officers alike. Thousands reached for their weapons and took up arms, with all form of hierarchy stamped out. Of the thousands 'touched' by Kinnison in weeks past, there were millions more untouched, but panic held no bias.

Deep within the recesses of gravity control, a three-man squad of troopers stood on guard. In their helmet earpiece all manner of hell was breaking loose. Hearing their commanders being shot and screaming for help as their teams turned on them supercharged their rampant paranoia to unmanageable levels. The latest news to filter down was the chief's death. Shot in the back by a subordinate whose last words before turning the blaster on himself was,

"-for what you did to my children."

The hearts of the three men raced a million miles an hour, their fingers fidgeting along their blasters. Backup supposedly was on the way, but now with the commotion they were unsure. After several minutes, Kinnison sent his command. One of the troopers turned on the others, then in a final act, pressed a thermal detonator on his belt. Flesh and metal shredded along with the supporting cooling system for a gravity generator. If any were you fail, a possible chain reaction could occur if not immediately contained. Alert's and commands immediately transmitted across the station to areas beyond Kinnison's range. But a tipping point had been reached, emergency crews including droids could no longer efficiently mobilize. Many linking supervisors or relay officers had been or would shortly be swept up in the frenzy. Over seventy reports of rebel behavior, or shape-shifting activity now flashed on Alert Screens.

Twisting shrieking metal deafened the eardrums of the few engineers able to respond to the broken cooling systems. The outer hull, weakened by the thermal detonator ripped open, pulling with it the twisting wreck that was once the cooling pump.

 _Now it's only a matter of time._ Without the cooling system, the gravity generator allowing the Kuat Drive to distance itself from the planet could not function. Under normal circumstance, several engineering squads would repair the damage and power and other mechanisms would be rerouted to compensate. Now though, nothing could prevent its inevitable destruction.

 **Priority Alert! Priority Alert! Code 8!**

 **-Evacuate Section 2 - detach sequence in 3 minutes**

 **-Begin countdown**

 **-2:59**

 **-2:58**

 **-2:57**

All 84 sections of Kuat Drive Yard interconnected with others, allowing for shared power supply and atmosphere generation. The first phase in an emergency is to detach the problem area so it can be isolated and repaired. Now though, only fifty percent of the emergency procedures worked, others being overwritten or completely ignored in the spreading frenzy. Across the sector, dozens of Imperial and private ships pushed their engines to the limit, the emergency call from planet Kuat asking all willing and able ships to come and help.

Section 2 shuddered as the last of six docking clamps failed to uncouple.

"Send six teams down to that clamp, blow it if necessary." snapped a senior officer to a lowly lieutenant.

"We can't sir! Our last team got shot by a trooper squad, they are dug in, we don't understand-"

Suddenly a security guard rushed into the room howling like a madman.

"Rebel scum!"

 **BOOM!** His vest covered in thermal detonators blasted the room into atoms. A newly automated directive now flashed on the monitor screens across the Kuat complex.

 **Abandon Ship! Abandon Ship!**

Slowly but surely, Section 2 began pulling adjoined sections off-kilter. The planet's gravitational force once equalized by gravity generators now acted upon the station pieces at full strength. Kinnison predicted that without outside help, within three days the entire station would collapse into the planet's gravity well and explode on the surface. A useful analogy would be a tablecloth slowly sliding off the edge of a table. Most of the cloth covering the table is correctly balanced, anchored, and proportionally placed for best purpose. But the small piece of fabric dangling over the edge has upon it a secured rock, slowly pulling. And as more fabric slides off the table, so too does the acceleration of the problem.

Kinnison's cell door along with all the others snapped open within the holding block. Barely distinguishable screams echoed from the opposite side of the long corridor. _Alright, here we go…_ Tal-Nuk-Toor slowly stirred, his drunken body flopping and sliding towards the exit. A blaster rang out and smoke billowed, _have to time this just right._ With a stagger Toor fell into the corridor, knocking over a random maintenance worker trying to escape.

"Help!" slurred Toor,

"Get the hell off me." A swift kick to the chin knocked Toor back, blood and spit running down his chin. "You better get to an escape pod buddy," the frantic maintenance worker scrambled to his feet and ran off down the smoke-filled corridor. On his hands and knees Toor spat a massive glob of blood into the grated flooring. Another strong shudder rattled the very bones of the Kuat Drive Yard, _excellent_. More boots clattered onto the walkway just behind him, _perfect, just a bit closer._ Just as a small squad of stormtroopers passed Toor reached up and grabbed one by the leg.

"Help!"

"It's a prisoner,"

"Could be a Rebel,"

"Or shapeshifter?" commented another. With precise mental control, the Lensman forced the squad leader to raise his blaster and fire a single shot into the shoulder of Toor. Kinnison fell face first into the grate while the squad rushed off.

The tremendous power of thought exhibited by a Lensman is more than enough to block all semblance of pain. Indeed it is true that Lensman did and can die, but never from pain alone. And while this extreme course of action may seem unnecessary, Kimball Kinnison is the master of sabotage and infiltration. Directly above the encounter hung a security camera, sending live footage to a central hub off-site. _Perfect, caught right on camera, they'll never tie this back to Toor's actions._

Miles away, sparse engineers still able to coordinate, desperately tried to get a star destroyer underway. Mostly complete, it sat in a docking port without power or crew. Under the control of the Lensman the lead engineer wrongly sequenced the reactor startup. Misaligned injection values, set into their wrong places weeks ago, vaporized immediately. The resulting chain reaction measured in microseconds turned the star destroyer into an expanding nova. All conjoined sections quickly lost power, nothing and no one could stop the destruction of the manufacturing superstructure. Atmosphere leaked, power fluctuated and toxic gas and industrial chemicals spilled out. With the camera systems dead, and Kuat's ultimate fate established, it was time for Kinnison to leave. A small ocular implant allowed the Lensman to signal his secret ship Dauntless; idling silent and cloaked a few thousand kilometers away.

A final sweep of the station's fleeing inhabitants within range revealed nothing out of the ordinary. At the speed of thought his mind entered, searched and disconnected from theirs.

 _Good,_

 _Good,_

 _Excellent,_

 _Good,_

 _A small adjustment...perfect,_

 **!BLOCKED!**

 _What?!_ Kinnison's mind bounced off Major Kate McMallum, Commander of Engineering Station-AA23. He tried to enter her mind again and hit a wall. He knew the 'feeling' right away, _a mechanical thought-screen. Impossible. That's impossible._ _No one has these...except... Boskone._ The Major's assignment had been on the far side of the Kuat Drive Yards, beyond the range of the Lensman. _What is she doing in a collapsing section? How can Boskone be here? It's impossible. IMPOSSIBLE._ Through the power of perception, Kinnison continued to watch her run headlong for the emergency pods. Between her and the pods stood a small platoon of stormtroopers, shouting and arguing with one another as to what to do. Instantly the seven troopers raised their blasters and started shooting towards her. The Lensman now controlled all seven, but despite his expertise he was still limited to their armament. Bolts hissed and smacked into the surrounding durasteel, forcing Major Kate to dive behind cover.

"Shapeshifter! Shapeshifter!" shouted the troopers as they rushed forward. Kinnison needed to wound her in order to disconnect her thought-screen and enter her mind. Through the eyes of his lead trooper he saw the Major's hand come around the corner and then his mind-connection snapped off. He instantly realized what had happened, all seven stormtroopers had vaporized along with a huge section of wall and various droids and personnel. McMallum holstered her Delameter sidearm and continued onward. _Only Boskone and the Galactic Patrol have that sidearm._

On the cold grated floor, Kinnison's mind raced, shocked would be an understatement. Boskone actively working in the shadows of two galaxies boggled his mind. _They must have followed me, but who? The leaders are all dead..._ With a final ocular command, he materialized away just as his section broke apart and exploded. Safely aboard the Dauntless, he sat quiet as medic droids repaired his shoulder. _C'mon Kinnison...THINK. How could this be possible…_ With a small portion of his mind, he tracked the escape pod McMallum occupied while the bulk of his mental processes concentrated on the past. Deep into all circumstances of his experience, reliving everything absorbed from the minds of the masses he had immersed himself in. From the earliest moments on Betazed to the last few minutes on Kuat. _Stability. Yes, that's it. The Empire thinks it's breaking apart governments and worlds, but they are just the froth on the surface of a deep ocean._

Kinnison sat in his command chair and looked blankly out the large windows of his Dauntless ship. Bright flashes of blue, green, orange and yellow glowed and flickered in the distance. Kuat Drive Yard moved in slow motion, thousands of kilometers of infrastructure twisted and burst as tidal forces from the planet below slowly ripped it apart. Newly arrived ships tried in vain to help stabilize the doomed industrial center, but their tractor beams proved inadequate. As Kimball predicted, there was nothing that could be done to save the most critical, high yielding, irreplaceable station in the galaxy. Even with this tremendous accomplishment, no smile broke along Kinnison's face. _Who is leading Boskone? It took decades to push them back, and we had an entire galaxy with Arisian's guiding us. Does the Dalek know? Do they know about the Dalek?_ Kimbal kicked the side of the console and stormed off into another room. He felt an inch tall, standing in a jungle and looking out and upward into the endless forest; wondering in what direction to travel. _It took millions and billions of Lensman decades to unravel the echelons of their hierarchy. And now... I'm just one._

A beeping indicator broke his focus and he looked up at the control board. A mystery ship just entered the system and now traveled at high speed towards the stricken shipyard. No transponder identifier could be detected and so Kinnison watched it carefully. Bypassing the collapsing superstructure and ignoring hails to offer a helping hand, it moved cautiously through the expanding clouds of debris and settled in close to McMallum's probe. After a few seconds, the ship's shields dropped and then raised a moment later. _Ah very sneaky,_ a transporter signal not detected by anything but the Dauntless, signaled that McMallum no longer occupied the escape pod. All technology procured from the Milky Way still remained top secret, only shared among engineers and crew directly involved in the campaign. Sadly for the security operators on the planet surface, watching in vain as their drive yard broke apart, they did not know the existence of a transporter or their identifying signals.

A second later, the mystery ship activated its hyperdrive and disappeared into the nether. The Dauntless followed, activating its own hyperdrive in hot pursuit. Kinnison sent his thoughts into the mystery ship, _heavily modified...the pilot is a droid. For damn hell...she still has her screen up._ Looking down at his display, Kinnison noticed their eventual destination,

 **Destination : Outland Transit Station.**

 **ETA: 27 hours**

 _Ah of course! So this is where they are recruiting the Bounty Hunter's, before the Empire even talks to them. Holy Krono._ The Lensman wanted desperately to follow the rabbit hole as much as possible, but he knew he did not have the time. _I can't spend a year chasing these guys... I need to get back and find the Dalek._ And so for the next twenty-seven hours, Kinnison concentrated on his thoughts, strategies and actions. _C'mon ya big idiot...THINK!_

 **Imperial Galaxy - Secret Location - Rebel Base**

"Watch it, watch it," cautioned Teemar while carefully instructing his minions to cart the rattling boxes into place. "...got this stuff from my inside man at Imperial Medical. Essentially it's like a Bacta tank for healing, except you take it through your nose. Very handy for undercover agents who are wounded."

"Yes, you mentioned this," commented Mothma, looking at the two dozen boxes now filling a corner of the room. The room, the very same Ro Laren sat in months ago and begged for help now seemed empty. There sat analysts of course, but not as many; the usual actors now deep within the Milky Way. What was left constituted the political 'arm' of the Rebel Alliance, and Princess Leia sought to capitalize on any advantage possibly gained.

"Can we get back to why you are here Teemar?"

The fat Romulan smiled and bowed slightly,

"Of course Princess. The Hutt's have asked me to come here to discuss an alliance."

"Why now Teemar?" asked General Dodonna. "They've never been interested in restoring the Republic. I would say, they enjoy criminal reign under Imperial rule."

Teemar nodded along with the General, listening and finishing the last stacking of boxes.

"This won't last forever, as the Empire pushes out into the Galaxy, into the outer rim, they will crack down on the criminal elements. And my employer wants to stay in business. The Hutt's figure that if there is a resurrection of the Republic, it will take decades to settle the political climate, giving them more...well, time." A fat smile spread across Teemar's pie face. He knew the Rebels were cautious isolationists, and of no surprise to him, untrusting. "To be honest, I don't care what the Hutt's do, I'm here cause I'm paid to be here, to deliver this stuff," the Romulan kicked a box and wiped the collecting beads of sweat off his brow.

"What is your idea?" Mothma felt particularly vulnerable at this point in time, she was accustomed to a sizeable navy. Now her Rebellion ran on a skeleton crew and despite Leia's reassurances, they were alone.

"The Metallurgical Guild on Nexus 7 is unhappy with the Empire. The Hutt's have friends within their ranks. I suggest to you, as I have suggested to Jabba that we join forces with them. Once we do, their new fleet will be at our disposal."

Mothma uncharacteristically laughed,

"They are capitalists supreme. Why would they join us? The Empire is supplying them with thousands of contracts and-"

"They have been building a secret fleet, one that can decapitate the Empire on Coruscant."

No one said a word, the air lay thick with distrust and deception. Mothma looked the fat alien up and down. _What does he know? Does he know our fleet is gone?_ Equally, Teemar looked at the three Rebel leaders, his glistening eyes moving between them. He did know, informed by his 'true' superiors as to the developments within the galaxy. Teemar suspected his boss controlled Jabba and the rest of his gang, but he could not be sure. Finally, after a long pause Mothma continued,

"I see. Our fleet can do the same. Then what?"

"A new beginning Mothma. No more hiding in the shadows, here…" Teemar looked around, the command center reminding him of his old office within the asteroid in the Milky Way. "When the head of the snake is gone, factions will fight for their right to prosper, no more ruling government telling everyone what to do."

"That is not what we want at all. We want the restoration of the Republic, a democratic society."

"Yes I understand, but to make a change right now you need a powerful navy, larger than yours. The criminal elements I represent as well as the newly formed navy by the Guild on Nexus 7 provide this. We need you to organize your spies and concentrate on the newly designed Death Star. When will it be done? What industrial routes are their suppliers using? We know you have spies everywhere in the Galaxy, some dormant or deeply buried for decades."

"So what you're saying is you need access to our spy network," scoffed Dodonna. "Princess, Mon Mothma, I recommend we end this meeting immediately. We do not want to go down this route."

"You already have General. Do you think destroying the first Death Star was accomplished without loss? The millions of personnel you killed aboard her. The endless raids against Imperial factories and sabotage. If we do not obtain valuable information from your spies, neither attack is a sure-bet, and then we will be exposed and wiped out. This is the next step."

"No Teemar it is not. You suggest killing the Emperor which we of course support, but what you want as the next phase of this galaxy goes against what we believe in. If the Emperor were toppled, a new Republic must be formed immediately."

"But you have survived because you are strong, imagine what you will do when you can come out and really prosper?"

"We do not wish to rule Teemar, we want even those who cannot defend themselves to flourish."

"I came here to open dialogue between you and the Hutts. I can see that we are on different pages. What I tell you next is in good faith. We are planning a secret attack on the Death Star assembly hub. It will be different from your attack upon Kuat Drive Yards a few hours ago, but-"

"We had nothing to do with that."

"Oh I see." Pretending their answer was of no consequence, Teemar dismissed their statement with a wave of his hand; but nothing could be further from the truth. He had received an encrypted message to lower his thought-screen from his mysterious-superior only a moment before arriving at Rebel headquarters. The thoughts were as follows:

 _[[Kuat Drive Yards is in a death spiral, it will soon collapse into the planet. Multiple reports of shapeshifters and Rebel activity has been reported. I do not believe this to be the case, but I cannot prove it at this time. It seems illogical that they are both working together. Agent McMallum was unable to copy the superlaser assembly unit before the station broke-out in chaos. Keep your thought-screen on at all times, you could be in danger. Hatch Plan B. The Metallurgical Guild on Nexus 7 is still under our control.]]_

"As I was saying, we are going to attack the Death Star assembly hub, you can choose to help if you wish. We cannot strike Coruscant without more information, that is for certain. Your information is invaluable."

"We will deliberate and get back to you," said Mothma firmly, her patience running low now that the Hutt's long-term objectives appeared drastically different from theirs.

"Very well, but I will say… some of your political sponsors and suppliers of credit and material may grow tired of your dithering when they see what we are about to accomplish. It would be a shame if you fell out of favor with them." With a leathery smile, Teemar heaved himself out of the control room and started his long walk back towards the hanger. Like Ro, he and his peons would be blindfolded to retain the secret location of the Rebel base. Once his massive bulk rounded a bend, a medical droid walked over to the stacked boxes and ran a scan. As before when the crates were first offloaded, there seemed to be no apparent danger. Deliberately and delicately the droid reached into a box and pulled out one of its many contents.

"A chrysalis, suspended in a liquid medium," it said matter of fact. In its hand was a vial with pink liquid within. "It is injected through the nasal cavity, presumably when injured."

"I don't want any of our agents using that stuff until we understand exactly what it is," said Leia picking one up and studying it. She did not trust Teemar one bit, _but if we can use him to destroy the Death Star before its built…_

"What are your thoughts General? Princess?" asked Mothma, reflecting on the conversation with the obese alien.

Not one to hold back his opinion, Dodonna wrestled two truths that he deemed existed at this moment.

"I don't trust him or the Hutt's, if we get caught up with them, it may push our supporters away. But. If he is to be believed, they are going to attack a major construction node for the Death Star… or a decapitation strike, or both. We may not get another chance at this. Ever."

"So what are you suggesting?" asked Mothma curiously,

"I think the Princess should talk to our supporters on Coruscant and the inner systems, see how quickly they can enact a new constitution."

"You mean. You want to go along with this plan?"

"If we don't we can be in a bad situation if the attacks work and we didn't help. And, if they do work, we better be ready for what's next. I see little choice," Dodonna faded off, he glanced at Leia whom he had known since she was a young girl. On her face read the slow realization that Dodonna was right. _If the Hutt's succeed and we do not help… they may turn on us._

"I agree, we need to help. Let's start by talking to the Metallurgical Guild and find out exactly what they have been up too. If we can pull them away from the Hutt's with promises of hefty Republic contracts when this is all over… they might become loyal to us. I will leave in the morning."

 **Imperial Galaxy - Coruscant - Emperor's Chamber**

Incandescent lightning bit and tore into the screaming and writhing Sector Admiral. Aides ducked for cover as the Emperor blasted the man across the room. Unfettered anger swelled again and another torrent of lightning zapped the last remaining life-force from the helpless officer. The smoking ruin of a man toppled to the ground and lay still. Smoke and the stench of burnt flesh filled the air, _Incompetent fool!_

Sector Admiral Nullus had been in charge of security for the Kuat Drive Yard and outlying systems. Yesterday when word broke that the industrial facility could not be saved, he had been summoned to the throne room. The Rebel's escaping into the Milky Way brought executions, and so too did this colossal disaster. To the Emperor, a seemingly simple campaign was quickly going sideways. The gargantuan loss of Kuat left the entire Imperial production operation in tatters.

"Nice light show." Palpatine turned his head and saw Q sitting on the far side of the room. As before he wore a traditional Jedi uniform, only now he also donned a set of dark sunglasses which he took off and polished with his sleeve. "That guy looks toasty." Palpatine said nothing, instead turning to his multiple screens and started reviewing the security hierarchy for his Death Star project. "You know, when I first asked if you wanted an opportunity to conquer an idiot galaxy I thought this would be over by now." Still Palpatine didn't respond. "Kill, maim, conquer, that's the sort of stuff your good at." A quick flash and Q now stood on the opposite side of the desk. "Do you have any idea what is going on your highness?"

Palpatine ignored him, instead walking to the window to gaze out of his tower. Endless buildings and structures created a maze-like pattern across the entire planet, windswept rain splattered against his window and lightning flashed in the distance. _They could be everywhere…_ As he looked at each building through the blinding storm, he could not help but wonder where all this lead.

"We were to rule a galaxy and enslave a race of humans on Earth. Now we have been double-crossed by the Founders. I sense there's even more out there than you are telling me."

"Oh, there is far far more out there than I am telling you. But do not worry, as long as you complete your mission I will ensure your position is secure."

Slowly Palpatine turned towards Q, his aged face barely visible beneath the dark cloak.

"I am unconvinced," he muttered. "I see a great, many, things." Thunder boomed in the distance and the room illuminated with lightning crisscrossing the sky. The trillion inhabitants of Coruscant scampered below, _any one of them could be a Founder...but…_ "I sense many threats. One's unlike any we have faced before. You told me this would be easy!" Lightning cracked outside to help emphasize the point.

"You want power Palpy? Go get it. It's waiting for you, take it, it's yours!" Q clasped the air with his hand and pointed outward into the storm.

The Emperor said nothing, he felt unsure of what the future held. Some visions presented a stellar outcome, with two galaxies under his sway. While others lead to emptiness, a future without form or substance.

"If you could only see what I see Q."

"I see everything,"

A small chuckle escaped the old man's lips,

"Of course you do Q, of course you do."

 **Imperial Galaxy - Kuat Drive Yard**

Desperate attempts continued to try and save the disintegrating industrial complex, all manner of ship pulled and adjusted their tractor beams to try and stabilize the fragmented pieces. Some having already fallen to the surface, their multi-megaton impacts destroying cities and coastlines. Hundreds of thousands of lifeboats floated helplessly among the wreckage and emergency beacons lit up the command terminals like a Christmas tree. Despite the carnage, Vader stood stoically at the front window. He knew it was a hopeless endeavor to save the complex and with a last look he turned back towards the command deck. The Dark Lord knew where to go, and what to do. He could sense it.

"Captain, abandon the current mission. Prepare a boarding party and set course for Outland Transit Station."

"At once my lord."


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Beyond Words, Worlds, and Wonder

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dalek Secret Base**

Drip drip drip went the splattering blood of the mutated assembly of tendon, brain, and organ hanging from the twenty chains attached to the ceiling. Hooks dug into the globular revolting blob as it pulsated, shook, contracted, and expanded. Forty human heads, some still with eyes and tongues screamed and spasmed as their consciousness faltered under the tremendous mental strain. The blasphemous creature kept alive by tubes and electrodes strung together in a lattice-like structure.

"Rrrreeeeepppooorrrrtttttt."

A human-like slave hunched over a monitoring terminal sprang forward to share the good news

"Supreme Dalek, they have successfully entered the Dreamland."

"Exxxxcellent. Under what spell and word configuration?"

"We..we..we.. Master. We, we... do not know. We are not sure which triggered the dreaming cycle. But! I can say that half the brains survived and are now within the Dreamland."

The eyestock of the Supreme Dalek swiveled back to the disgusting tormented form. Their plan needed direct communication and timing to succeed, this breakthrough coming at a crucial time. A remote command sent by the Dalek triggered a question to the living brain glob, with the hopes of it being transmitted to the Old Ones.

 **-Riyuh Alma Teeykah-**

Drip...

Drip...

Drip…

Measurable anticipation and stress filled the gloomy room, the humanoid slave knew it's life and this project was one and the same. Success or failure. Life or death.

Drip…

Drip…

Drip…

The genius level brain of the Dalek continued to search for answers within the ancient text, the unknown language a tricky undertaking even for an intelligent and determined mutant pepper-pot.

"Upload spell on page seven-eighty-one, paragraph three. Remove the word 'Yee'."

A few moments later the slave uploaded a new pattern into the dreaming brains, the question asked a simple one. "Will you help?" At least that is what is believed the old words meant in their full translation.

 **-Teeyah Noshub Neegorath-**

A roar sprang from the headed monstrosity without warning. The living mouths, brains and half-faces screaming in unison.

"Yes!"

But no windpipe or organ assembled now or that has ever lived on Earth or elsewhere could make such a grotesque noise. The Supreme Dalek moved back in surprise at the breakthrough communication. Scanners far superior to those found in the Alpha Quadrant penetrated the mass of flesh to determine how the noise had been created. The scan revealed nothing out of order, no hidden presence or entity.

"Mm..mm ma...master! We have done it!" The humanoid slave jumped for joy and ran around the front of the terminal. Its hands clasped together, with eyes as wide as saucers, twinkling in excitement. "Yes master! We will! We will help you."

The Supreme Dalek did not expect this and turned towards its terminal controlling slave.

"Eeeexxxxplain?" Genuine confusion filled the logic circuits and fleshy mind of the Supreme Dalek. What occurred now made no sense to it, and a general alert transmitted across the base. _Why is the slave acting like this? Why is the slave answering for the Old Ones?_ This thought, loosely translated from computer and flesh unison for the sake of this story will have to suffice.

"Oh master! I can hear them in my ears, can...can you?"

The weapon stalk on the Dalek swiveled back and forth between the hanging sack and the humanoid slave. Now more pepper-pots glided into the room to witness the unfolding situation, all on alert and ready to kill.

"Identify."

"It's me master! It's me..." the slave turned towards the hanging blob, it's face now looking away from the assembling group.

"IDENTIFYYYYY!"

Terrified underlings vanished behind terminals and through corridors, scurrying quickly to put distance between themselves and the terrible room. Only one slave remained, the humanoid continued to blankly stare at the assortment of brain and heads.

"Old man Whately failed, but you won't, right master? I know you won't."

Within the biological and mechanical mind of the Supreme Dalek, it searched for a reference point. Slowly some semblance of rationale began to unfold,

"You speak of Whately and his son Wilbur, Dunwich Massachusetts, Earth. Referred to the Dunwich Horror in that history's timeline."

"Yes master. Yes that is it," now the slave moved towards the hanging-mess, it's arm outstretched to touch it.

"Your identity is confirrrrrrmmed. You are the Old Ones, we have been expecting-"

 _ **DO YOU WANT US TO BE?**_ Screamed the hanging blob in unison. The slave reached up and touched one of the hanging heads, it's broken neck twisting and convulsing at the gesture.

"Are you the same beings that we contacted regarding the Time Lords?" a hint of doubt evident in the shrieking voice of the Dalek. The Necronomicon always vague and never specific caused fits to those trying to discern it. No 'real' truth lay within the thousand page assortment of spells and stories. Translated a dozen times and interpreted by those wanting to hear the calls of things beyond. Where logic and mathematics offers reasonable explanations, within the book no such concept exists.

"Oh master, yes, it's them, I know it's them." Reaching up, the humanoid grabbed hold of a neck and brain clump. Chains rattled under the new strain as the slave pulled itself upward, climbing onto the giant sack of flesh.

"RREEEEEmove yourself from the experiment!"

Mouths still functioning began taking chunks of flesh out of the slave, but no scream of pain escaped its mouth. Instead, the slave's eye were full of wonder and joy; wholly content and at peace with itself. A moment later, in a horrifying display of repugnant mutilation, the slave began eating flesh and tendon from the hanging sack of brain matter. The assembled group of Dalek's, incapable of dread looked on with bafflement and confusion. The station shook and alarms sounded as rumblings deep and mysterious propagated throughout. Finally, the half-eaten slave, still alive and communicating plunged the rest of its body into the hanging mess. An orgy of mouths and flesh ate, bit, and tore.

"Oh Master, I am here dreaming. Tell me your plans and I will share it."

The Supreme Dalek at this point could not correlate the strange turn of events, but saw no reason not to push its plan forward.

"When we open the Gate, they are to attack the Q inside the Continuum. As they were to have attacked the Time Lords on Gallifrey. If they carry out our orders, we will expand the Gate opening to other vistas."

 **THE CONTINUUM WILL BECOME US**

"You are to deeeeeestrroyyy them!"

A pipe burst and steam hissed outward from the increased rumbling and shaking of the station. The half-eaten Slave began gibbering and jabbering, spouting into the air, lost among his own thoughts. A Dalek on the end of the semi-circle swiveled to it's right, believing for a moment a shadow stretched towards it. After a second of scanning, it reverted back to the ghastly experiment, determining the moving shadow was an optical illusion.

"When ouuuuurrr telepathic superweapon is ready the soldier muuuuussssttt cast the spell."

"Yes master he will. Oh… how delightful. I can… see, dreaming."

The assembled group of Dalek's were unsure of how precisely the slave remained alive but never the less conversation continued and plans matured. After an hour the mangled mash of heads and slave woke from their dreams and hung silently, chains rattling, blood dripping.

Making its way to the bridge the Supreme Dalek reviewed other areas of the operation. No longer the small and lightly equipment Bakerfield Facility, the new station massed ten times the space and equipment; all neatly tucked and hidden within the supermassive black hole's accretion disk. Weapons of every sort bristled on the exterior with sensor scans covering the entire Galaxy.

"Supreme Dalek! Detecting subspace disturbances near the Metron planet!" Shrieked an underling. The newly arrived information showed twenty-eight subspace fissures expanding outward from the Metron homeworld and into interstellar space. Probes of pure energy traveling just below the surface of this universe within subspace, only 'rising' to the surface to scan and then retreat to safety.

"Has our base or sites been detected?" asked the Supreme Dalek

"Neeegatttivveee" screeched another,

"Federation records indicate no such activity has ever been witnessed," said another.

"What they seek is unknown. We must prepare for a possible conflict. War demands sttttraaategyyy. I will align with the Battle Computer."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Demilitarized Zone**

Smoke and small fires filled the corridors of the stricken Enterprise with all hands on every level fighting for their lives. Besides phasers, fierce hand-to-hand combat with knives and stabbing weapons came to bare throughout the ship.

Captain Kirk had not made it more than twenty feet from the turbolift when he found himself aligned with a group of red shirts clumped together. Pinned down by the endless blaster bolts smacking into the wall just ahead, they exchanged phaser fire with blaster fire, trying desperately to press any advantage they could garner.

"How long have you men been here?" asked the Captain, wincing from the shriek of metal being blasted apart just ahead.

"Sir, we can't move, but they can't either, we are just exchanging fire."

As each minute ticked past, stress and worry rose within Kirk. He desperately wanted to get to engineering, but every foot must be fought for and earned, and that would take time. _Time we do not have._

"Alright men listen carefully. I am going to set this phaser on overload. When it explodes you rush forward. Understood?" In unison the men affirmed and Kirk keyed in the overload sequence, but before he pressed the last button he hesitated. _John…_ Reaching for his communicator he flipped it open, a droplet of blood splashing against the speaker. Kirk's uniform could be described as tattered, and so too would all the others fighting aboard. Sweat, stains and blood-soaked their clothing, no one remained untouched in some shape or form. Still, they continued, frustrated, scared, but undeterred.

Kirk took a deep breath, preparing to scream into the communicator but caught himself at the last second. Every man huddled near and ably looked upon him with pain set eyes. Looking for hope, and a way out of this hell, chaos, and misery. Finally, Kirk opened his mouth, looking at each man in the eye, his heart heavy and soul hurting,

"John… we need you. Help us." he said softly.

The captain grabbed his phaser and finished the sequence, "stand ready." Everyone stiffened and readied their stance. Another blaster bolt smacked into the wall, causing the huddled men to jam closer together, the troopers were advancing. "Three… two… one... " Kirk tossed the phaser around the corner and plugged his ears. The deafening blast of bursting steel and bodies vibrated into each man's bones. But there was no time to wait, no time to rest. Instantly Kirk rushed around the corner, phaser firing and waving his men to follow. The tired and hurt men sprung forward, each with their phasers drawn, unloading everything they could into the smoking pile of bodies and debris.

"Go go go!" shouted Kirk continuing onward. Just ahead he saw a large hole in the floor leading to the deck below. It had been caused by the phaser overload and in the flickering light and smoke he saw more stormtroopers below. They were stunned and disorganized, the ceiling had collapsed onto them. "Down! Down!" shouted the captain, pointing into the hole. Without hesitation, he lunged through the gaping hole and pile-drived into the tightly grouped squad of troopers. Like rain, red shirts followed him into the fray, swinging wildly at anything and everything foreign and hostile. A scrum broke out within the mix of bodies and chard walls; chops, kicks, bites and flips pummeled the surprised commando squad. Three red shirts were gunned down and another injured as the melee continued without end, and as each critical second passed, Kirk fought harder and more desperate. _We are running out of time, engineering can't hold them off forever..._

But something festered and brewed deep and terrible only a few decks above,

A squad of elite Imperial Commandos rushed into the dark room, searching for their target. They found him. Kneeling in the darkness, entirely armored except for his helmet which sat beside him on the floor. 'John' faced the opposite wall, holding his head while seething words of anger and pain spewed out of his mouth.

"Leave me alone. Leave! Leave! Stop!"

Darkness partially obscured his body but enough could be seen to identify him. The elite commandos moved in cautiously, unsure if the soldier was talking to them or himself. A moment later the squad leader barked an order.

"Don't move!" With a small adjustment the trooper set his blaster to stun and fired square into 'John's' back. The marine flopped forward, his face hitting the bulkhead just ahead. A red blood mark slid down the wall following his collapsing body, his nose broken and twisted under the weight of the armor. Somewhere in the blurry incoherent darkness 'John' thought he heard laughing, wherever his mind currently resided, so too were the voices and laughter.

Within the helmet of the squad leader, Commander Mortil instructed the small squad to attach a transporter beacon to the prisoner and send him back to their command ship. A device no larger than a quarter was placed onto 'John's' armor and activated.

Nothing.

"Commander Mortil, the transporter isn't recognizing… something isn't right."

 _ **Teach them about pain! Teach them about suffering!**_

Each trooper jumped back at the stirring of 'John's' body, first his arm then leg started moving.

"Hit him again!" shouted the muffled voice. Another stun blast hit the marine but this time there was no effect. Slowly but surely he rose to his feet, his arms and legs trembling at first, then becoming steady and sure. Each trooper's mouth fell open with awe and dread, never in their service lives had they seen such an event. Still with his face looking away, the marine reached down slowly and picked up his helmet. With slow deliberate movement, 'John' pulled it down over his head and a crunch and hiss signaling its connection-lock.

 _ **Yessssss! Show them no mercy! Show them what is to come!**_

"Switch to-" the lead trooper looked down at his arm, and in complete bewilderment he felt something _inside_ his armor, crawling along his skin, slithering, pulsating. "What the!" A squad mate turned sharply left and blasted a shadow, but nothing could prepare them for what came next. Suddenly 'John' whirled around and with a devastating punch, his fist exploded out the back of the lead trooper. Spine and lung broke and splattered, the two remaining troopers screamed, one from what he saw in front of him, the other from what he saw in his mind's eye, something was in there, unwholesome and terrible. He died instantly.

Just outside the door stood six more troopers, but before they could rush in to rescue their comrades, the wall erupted outward, blood and gore splattering in all directions. Of the three former trooper's nothing but slop and piles of dismembered clumps of matter remained. Grabbing a stray blaster, 'John' began firing in all directions, troopers fell like trees as their own blaster bolts hissed and sparked against his formidable armor. A pack of Jem'Hadar mixed within the Imperial ranks came around the corner to witness the bloodbath. The last of the troopers raised his hands to protect his face, but it was no use. 'John's' armored boot smashed right through the helmet, brain and fluid smearing in all directions.

"It's him!" shouted the lead Jem'Hadar. Before a single shot could be sent in his direction, 'John' sped forward. Wading through them like a bull elephant through small shrubs, the Dominion agents falling like all the rest. Bone, cartilage, spines and all manner of biological appendage ripped and torn. Whoever was lucky enough to be out of arms reach fell to well-placed blaster bolts to the face or neck.

While complete calamity unfolded, Commander Mortil of the Imperial Elite Commandos prepared his men for an encounter. Towards the end of the deck, near the turbolift was a blockade of twenty Imperial Commandos. Each man dressed in black armor and fashioning an upgraded and more powerful blaster. They stood ready.

 **Milky Way - Galactic Rim - Super Star Destroyer Vigilant**

Thrawn could hear the spectacle unfolding on the giant screens behind him. Live-feed cameras, directly from the helmets of the Elite Commandos streamed into the command room. All level of officer busily gave instructions and up to date information on squad movement and expected resistance throughout the Enterprise decks. Right now their immediate attention focused on the missing squad of troopers sent to apprehend the soldier, but Thrawn's attention chose another priority, Kuat Drive Yards.

On his desk, strewn about in fits of frustration and anger lay the reports from the doomed industrial center. The Emperor had made it a priority to get him the information in the hopes of dissecting what it is they were dealing with. Thrawn's head rested in his clasped hands, he pressed hard into his temples concentrating on the problem. _No more probes, no more Death Star hyperspace super laser. Significant delays in fleet production, Tie-Fighter production… extreme infiltration of Founder's within our ranks… and working with the Rebels? How?_

"Captain Needa. Divert fifty-percent of our analytical droids and a thousand Analyst Officers to the reports and footage from Kuat. Imperial Intelligence is interviewing survivors, but that will take months and months. We do not have months, we have days."

"Yes Grand Admiral, is there any indication as to what happened?"

Thrawn pursed his lips and hesitated, what presented itself as evidence seemed so incredible he scarcely believed it. But in the absence of any other clues he needed to address it as fact.

"Captain Needa, it appears our friends the Founders have backstabbed us." Sputtering a reply, Thrawn saved him the mental gymnastics and continued. "They must have made their way from the Gamma Quadrant to Kuat within the Bounty Hunter ships."

"But Grand Admiral, those ships travel under escort from the wormhole to Kuat with no stops. Then when the Bounty Hunters disembark, they and their ships are scanned by Imperial Troops."

"I am aware Captain Needa. Nevertheless, many Founders were reported to be in the complex."

"I was unaware we had bio-scanners throughout the entire complex."

"We do not, it was not deemed necessary. The reports are internal sensors, cameras, and eyewitness accounts. Here…" Thrawn shuffled around his desk and handed Needa a datapad. "This is the security footage from the machine shop in section 18" Needa pressed play and watched the high-angled footage within the workshop. The crisp image showed an engineer working alone on some equipment. After a brief fast-forward the nameless engineer began shouting to an area off camera.

"Hello? … Anyone there? Any-" the engineer jumped and grabbed a pistol below his desk, "Guards!" An alarm sounded in the highly secure area, the engineer now pointing his pistol off-screen. "Do not move shapeshifter. I can see you!"

"We are everywhere! You cannot stop us all!" Came the shouted reply.

Soon after a squad of troops rushed in and started blasting. Needa almost jumped when the screen flashed white from the sudden explosion of thermal detonators around the waist of a stormtrooper.

"What in gods…" Needa passed the datapad back to Thrawn and blinked to clear his thoughts.

"As you can see Captain, we need people on this immediately. It is entirely possible we may lose control of the Dominion forces. We have run out of time. Send word to the Founder planet, do not give any indication of Kuat. Have all Dominion Gamma Quadrant forces assemble at the wormhole, all ships to be loaded with Jem'Hadar fighters. All Vorta administrators to be onboard as well."

"Grand Admiral, the minefield-"

"Exactly Captain Needa, the minefield will devastate the fleet, but hopefully not completely. Then we will move the remaining Forces towards Earth. The Dominion must lay siege to the human planet before the Rebels can reveal our motives, if ever they do, or can." Needa nodded along slowly, trying to connect all the dots. "Then when Earth is under siege and their population faces obliteration from orbital bombardment we will wipe them from the galaxy in a matter of minutes, the Founder's homeworld along with them."

"And the Founders who have already infiltrated our galaxy?"

"I am sure that Lord Vader and Lord Maul will hunt them down and wipe them out." Interrupting their conversation, a junior operator called for their attention across the room. Thrawn rushed over, closely followed by Captain Needa. On a crackling screen displayed the camera of Commander Mortril onboard the Enterprise. The audio and visual quality had deteriorated in the last minute and broken fragments could be heard coming over the speakers.

"-at anything that comes around that corner, do not-"

"-set to kill, switch to infrared."

"-move up."

The unsteady picture jostled as each trooper moved into position, nearly twenty in total now took-up position near the turbolift. Ahead the lights on the ceiling flickered and then switched off, _something_ appeared to move in the darkness. The image snapped to infrared, but just the grayish outline of the corridor was visible. Eyes squinted and ears strained in the command room, even Thrawn's cold heart beat slightly faster than usual. A small four-man team moved forward under orders, inching their way along the wall. On-screen their bright white infrared images contrasted with the cold gray walls of the Enterprise. A few seconds longer and the small team disappeared around the corner, a crackled message from the lead trooper relayed what Mortil already knew.

"Sir, I… I'm not sure what happened. They are dead, torn apart."

"Copy, get back here, cover formation," ordered Mortil into his mic. His commands were just above a whisper, he did not want to give away their position. Again the infrared images showed the small squad heading back towards the main group when a throat-gurgling scream filled all the speakers of the command room. Thrawn's eyes darted from screen to screen, trying to determine what happened. Mortil's camera gyrated dizzyingly while pushing and pulling men in different directions. Pandemonium and utter horror struck the twenty-man squad, blaster fire rang out in all directions and men screamed like children,

"-came through the wall!"

A loud stomach-churning snap and a horrible gurgling filled Thrawn's ears. His face remained stoic but his heart and mind faltered slightly. _What are they fighting…?_ Every helmet camera spun like a 'top,' some men switched back to normal view while others continued in infrared. Within a few seconds many started to push and claw their way to safety, nothing made any sense. Special commanders, assigned by Thrawn to overwatch the boarding action shouted and screamed orders into their microphones, but none were followed. Mortil's camera now back on regular viewing showed him blasting away at another elite trooper, Thrawn could not believe it. Then after a second he realized why, the trooper being shot was not alive, but being used as a shield. Just before Mortil's camera went black, a figure lunged forward, and in the dim light and flashing blaster bolts he saw 'John.'

"That's one of our three targets. We need to capture 'John' alive." Thrawn grabbed the nearest microphone and depressed the button. "This is Grand Admiral Th-"

"Help us! Help! Hel-" Sheer terror and panic filled their voices, no longer caring of command hierarchy, regulation, or respect. The squad no longer existed as a cohesive unit, now only scattered and scared men. Across the command deck a junior analyst who had been watching and advising one of the elite trooper's jumped out of his chair, his face a pale ghostly white. The act was so totally unexpected that every officer including Thrawn stood still, baffled. The young officer hesitated and then cleaned his ear out with a finger,

"Can anyone hear that?"

"Hear what Lieutenant?" asked his now aggravated superior. Thrawn's attention switched back and forth between the cameras and the seemingly strange behavior of a junior officer across the room. Small hairs and goosebumps, evidence of anxiety and creeping fear, rose on the arms and neck of the assembled command team. Guards rushed across the room and stood on either side of the delirious Lieutenant.

"Eeya, Shub-Niggurath!" His last words, resembling sounds more than discernible language hissed and frothed from the man's throat.

"Seize him." Thrawn pulled his own sidearm and pointed it at the deranged Lieutenant. "Bring him to the brig." No sooner had the pale-faced Lieutenant exited than the last of the twenty elite trooper cameras cut to black. Heart rate monitors, embedded within the armor all showed what Thrawn already suspected and in the recesses of his mind began to fear. They were dead, _but how? How is that possible?_

 **Milky Way - Demilitarized Zone - Enterprise**

'John's' boot stomped down on the last living member of the sizeable elite unit he had just torn apart with blaster and fist.

 **The great deceiver moves towards her, hurry**

'John' discarded a hand phaser, _firing speed is too slow…_ Reaching down he pulled an automatic heavy blaster from a splattered and disfigured hand of a trooper. In all directions 'John' heard shouting and coordinating of Enterprise security personnel trying their best to repel the boarding party. He knew where he needed to go, and where Cienna waited. Walking to the turbolift and pressed the call button. Nothing. Power no longer flowed throughout the ship, sparse surges of backup stores were all that kept the air-supply and gravity in place. With a powerful jab of his hand, the armored glove pushed its way between the doors and 'John' slid them aside. Looking down into the dark shaft his mind raced with images and sounds of beings he barely conceived, but they existed there, within his mind and soul. _Cienna, I am coming._

Two decks below a team of Jem'Hadar and elite troopers were successfully pushing a security detail back into a dead end. Redshirts, Imperials, and Jem'Hadar littered the floor, but everyone fought undeterred and unyielding. As the Imperial forces pushed forward an urgent broadcast came through their headsets; Mortil and his squat were dead. Footfalls as heavy as Clydesdale trampled towards them. The Imperial squad turned-about to see a charging armored figure rushing straight at them; automatic blaster fire spewed outward. Fist-sized chunks exploded out of the enemy forces; one unfortunate trooper found himself holding his intestine as it blew out his side.

"Shoot him! Fire! Fire! Fire!" screamed the muffled voice of the squad leader.

Blaster bolts and Dominion rifle-pulses sizzled and sparked across the marine's armor as he came at them like a freight train. As he barreled forward, the enemy group peddled backward into a tight corner, now caught between Federation security forces and Doom-incarnate speeding toward them at breakneck speed. On the opposite side of the firefight, Starfleet security and assembled geologists and mechanics sensed opportunity and broke out of their cordoned area, rushing forward with phasers firing.

The frantic squad of Imperial troops now resembled a pile of broken bodies and helpless amputees, with the remaining troops hunkered down in a tight corner. A few more seconds and 'John' would be right on top of them, their time was up. As the last remaining trooper took a blaster bolt to the midsection, he pulled his thermal detonator. 'John' in the corner of his eye saw the incoming Starfleet troops, the same men and women he befriended on his lengthy stay aboard the Enterprise.

"Get back!" he shouted. A final and lucky blaster bolt rang off in a last ditch effort to kill the abominable armored hulk. Leaping into the air he collided head first with the dying trooper before he could toss the grenade, the poor man's body bursting like an engorged bladder.

Hissing-searing pain erupted in the frenzied mind of 'John', the lucky penetrating shot incinerating his left lung. No sooner did his body smash the trooper than a concussive blast ripped through the corridor, men and armor splintering in all directions. Coughing fits overtook the surviving Starfleet officers, who thanks to 'John' escaped disaster. They waffled the smoke and fumes away from their faces, looking for their friend and savior. And somewhere, someplace, 'John's' mind continued.

 **Give us the power to heal you, give us the ability to help you. We are part of you, let us free**

"Never!" No words sounded, and his eyes did not see. Somewhere, far out beyond strange space existed 'John's' tortured consciousness. Lost in darkness, dreaming and undying. 'John' felt a cold embrace, it oozed and slithered into his 'being', whatever part of him remained now felt _**THEM**_

 **Let us help her,**

"Wha? - How…?"

 **Let us through**

"I will never, ever, let you through."

 **See her future now, see her past**

Overwhelming his distorted senses, 'John' witnessed Cienna in engineering. Kirk knelt beside her, holding a bloodied hand. From her mouth spewed globs of blood, a gaping hole in her chest from an Imperial blaster stained her beautiful white dress.

"No! No! You monsters!"

 **Let us in, let us help her**

Now the images adjusted, no longer in the present or the future but her stood beside a mechanical creature that 'John' instantly recognized as a Dalek from the debriefings he held with Cienna and Kirk. On a viewscreen a battle was taking place deep inside a bunker, blistering exchanges of weapons fire flashed while the Dalek issued orders. 'John' saw himself fighting, clawing and scraping his way through the hordes of ungodly abominations that he faced for an endless amount of years. Now the perception changed and all 'John' could see was Cienna's face looking at the screen. Then he saw it, a tear trickling down her face. Despite her numerous liquidations, rebirths, and mindwipes, somewhere deep down she felt pity and remorse. This he already knew, but someway, somehow, in the voidless space where only a dream can dream, he felt her pain. Guilt heavy and burdensome weight rested on her shoulders, she did not want to fulfill the mission, she hated it, hated the Dalek and herself. He didn't want her to die on the cold floor in Engineering, did not want her to perish thinking he let her down.

"I... will only release the first key…can you save her?"

 **You can save her** they hissed, the lapping frothing nothingness danced with excitement.

"What if I can't?"

 **You will, we have seen it. You have done it already, we exist at all times, in all places. We are, we were, we shall ever be**

'John' continued to exist and float in absolute stillness, anger brooding deep and scornful began to billow up. He wanted to hurt the Imperial forces, to teach them all a lesson. _How dare they challenge us, how dare they try and kill us._ His mind then switched to Kirk and his concentration broke, tormented as to what to do. _He is a good man, a hero..._

 **The Deceiver**

"Yes... yes… he took her from me."

 **Her last image will be him**

"No! Never! Yee-nah ulgulah nehhyelah elmesiq, Yog-Sothoth!"

'John's' eyes snapped open, he lay on his back with a small team of Starfleet officers standing a few feet away. Despite deafening ringing in his ears he caught the tail end of their conversation.

"-he's gone, the thermal detonator exploded right beside-"

"Look!" shouted one of the ensigns. All at once the red shirts turned their heads, one fainted, another screamed.

Clanking, crunching, slurping, crinkling, best described the sight unfolding before them; their armored friend was _RECOMBINING._ Knots of muscle twisted and stretched, brain matter splattered outside the helmet slopped back into place, armor performed elemental fusion impossible to known science.

 **Our hands are at their throats**

"J.. John? How? My god…" a poor ensigns words faltered. 'John' rose to his feet and inspected his hand, flexing and turning it slowly. Another ensign ran up and passed 'John' his phaser rifle,

"Go get 'em"

Across the deck the Captain dropped the last Jem'Hadar fighter within striking distance, a judo-chop doing the trick. Kirk's shirt remained a tattered mess, blood streamed out of his nostrils and sweat and dirt clogged his pores. Looking around he counted six dead Jem'Hadar and two white stormtroopers and three black. He did not know the difference between the colors, but at this point he did not care. The small squad of officers he linked up with, held their positions to his rear; there remained one last corner before reaching transporter room three. Slowly, step by step he approached the blind turn, his phaser rifle raised and trigger finger steady.

Before he could reach the corner, the entire ship violently jolted and lights burst and flickered up and down the corridor. Flipping open his communicator he called to the bridge,

"Spock, report."

Nothing.

"Spock? Spock!" Finally a crackled voice broke through,

"Jim, new vessels have just come into real space, they use the same method of travel as the Imperial probes." The Captain's eyes widened but then turned to confusion at Spock's next comment, "...they are engaging the Dominion forces. The blast we just felt was an exploding Dominion cruiser off our port bow." In the background a phaser blast and the sounds of hand to hand combat came through the speaker, the line then cut. After several failed attempts to raise the bridge Kirk set his jaw and moved towards the dark corner. There was nothing he could do at this moment, he needed to trust his first officer to hold.

Step by precarious step he moved towards the blind turn; the lights were flickering on the other side making it difficult to see what waited around the bend. He walked a few more steps when his heart almost stopped. Crashing into the bulkhead just in front of him from the blind corner was a Founder. Having transported aboard with the Elite Imperial troops to lay in hiding, it's disguise now somehow compromised and identity revealed. Liquid spasms pulsated and flowed over its entire body, morphing from one form to another; to Kirk it seemed to be in pain. He fired point blank, hitting the gelatinous blob center mass. It shrieked and despite his fire, tried to crawl _**towards**_ him.

"Help! Heeeeeellllpp" the liquid gurgling speech barely perceivable as the phaser burnt away the biological mass. But the recognition of utter terror lay within every man, and so Kirk stopped firing and for a second he did not know how to react. His enemy now begged for help, _from something… oh my god… is it John?._ Now the Enterprise shook again. This time instead of a sudden jolt from a proximity blast, it resembled a slow, soft rumble; like an earthquake felt from many miles off. More specifically, like the dull hill noises from the town of Dunwich so many centuries and universes ago.

Slowly the Founder elongated and began to flow back towards the corridor around the corner. Frantically it morphed its hands into claws and gripped the ground, something pulled it, _what in the world…_

To say Kirk's heart skipped a beat may be an exaggeration, but the point stands. In only his wildest imagination could his mind perceive the next series of events. As fast as lightning, the armored forearm of 'John' reached around the corner and grabbed the slithering Founder. But as the light flickered off, _something_ else appeared to hold the leg of the floundering Founder. To say 'something' is also pushing the boundaries of what constitutes a thing. In the flickering light, just beyond the perception of ordinary vision the armored arm of his friend appeared to be a monstrous tentacle. A thousand eyes and mouths, whose mouths held more eyes and more mouths slopped and wrangled. _Or maybe it wasn't… maybe…?_ Kirk leaned against the wall to steady himself, his head felt light while his imagination raced. The Founder disappeared into the darkness, a last scream of sheer fright filling the hearts of every man listening. But Kirk no longer thought of the Founder, only what he imagined he had seen a moment ago. _The shape was all wrong… nothing can exist that way, nothing… can move that way…it slithered… or moved but not… it didn't really move, not in a way we know..._

A few red shirts rushed up and grabbed the Captain by the arm to support him, nearly losing consciousness as his head bobbed and eyes strained to stay open while looking dizzyingly at his men. To say up, down, forward, and back are the _only_ directions is logical. Yet Kirk saw something else, another direction of movement, something unnatural and equally unbelievable.

"Captain… Captain?"

 _It just… could not have existed…_ one last thought of the terrible thing before he snapped out of it and looked back towards the darkened corner.

"Men… what comes next I cannot say. We fight, to the last man." Each of them nodded and looked knowingly at each other. All dirty, sweaty, and unkempt, but each exhibiting a resolve that every officer in Kirk's era came to work with each morning.

"We are with you sir,"

Kirk gripped his phaser rifle, his hands sweaty and knuckles white. Counting down to himself he focused on his next few moves. The door to transporter room three was close and he needed to reach it if they were to save engineering. As his mental countdown reached zero he rushed the corner and made the turn. Already shaken by the vivid image of a horrific tentacle _THING_ he stumbled forward through the nightmare passage. The first redshirt on the heels of Kirk immediately vomited, the second let out a shriek more commonly associated with a dog yelping in pain. The Captain looked back and grabbed the men and pulled them onward,

"Go! Go!"

"My god Captain, what is that smell?"

 **[[...by their smell shall you know them near...]] -Necronomicon-**

Their feet splashed through an inch deep river of blood; the ceiling dripping like an old house's leaky ceiling. The faint images the team were able to see appeared to be enemy soldiers crushed and liquefied against the bulkheads. Kirk shoved his men through the transporter room door before turning back to squint into the flickering darkness.

"John? … John?" he hissed. Just before joining his men he looked down at a broken and tattered Jem'Hadar, the center of its smashed body forming a giant footprint. Bending down to inspect it, he noticed a black oily liquid, a tar-like sticky mass of disgusting ooze spread over the disfigured body. _What is aboard my ship…?_

A loud thud startled Kirk and he snapped his head up. Through the flickering light he saw a stormtrooper slip on the lake of blood and fall over a dead elite trooper whose pieces were scattered about. He was injured, a large portion of debris extruded from his armor, he murmured in pain. Raising his phaser rifle, Kirk took a step forward towards the fallen intruder. While he represented the enemy, _he did not need to die for the sake of killing._

Making a few soggy steps forward, he bent down to inspect the unarmed man. Kirk then saw grotesque injuries, both hands were missing. _Those look like… teeth marks?_

"Help-" the sentence was never finished. A phaser blast coming from another direction hit the trooper in the back, vaporizing him on contact. Complete pandemonium broke out at that exact moment. Splashes and screams burst forth as an entire squad of elite stormtroopers barreled around the corner firing repeatedly in the direction in which they came. They were so busy trying to fight whatever it was they were fighting that they did not even notice the Captain standing in the hallway. Raising his phaser rifle quickly he laid down a devastating sweep, cutting down three troopers before they could turn to see what hit them.

"What?!" shouted a confused trooper, another tripped over a dead security officer and splashes of blood and bile swashed and slushed around their feet and ankles. Turning their weapons Kirk dove through the doorway into the transporter room, blaster bolts smacking into the wall.

"Captain, we'll cover you," shouted a red shirt taking up position opposite the doorway. Kirk did not hesitate, he scrambled off the floor and activated the site-to-site transporter. He needed to get to engineering, and he planned on beaming directly into it. As the controls set, he ordered his men into the transporter cove with him. Their position presented an easy target for anyone with weapons training, time was crucial. As the transporter energized an elite trooper rushed in and fired. Kirk's stomach churned as he saw the bolt moving through the air, then the familiar dazzle of energy. He had escaped, but barely.

A moment later the room appeared through the crystallized particles and the captain and his men stood in the center of engineering. Fire billowed and smoke waffled like a dark cloud throughout the room. Immediately phaser fire lashed out from a built-up position on the far side of engineering. Scotty and a squad of red shirts were holed up behind an improvised bunker they had created using scraps of metal and uprooted workstations. They unloaded barrage after barrage of phaser fire into the darkened corridor beyond the main engineering doors. Bodies littered the floor.

"Captain! Get over here!" shouted the Scott, waving his hand frantically to hurry them to safety. Bolts from Imperial blasters whizzed past Kirk as he dove behind cover.

"Report Scotty?" Kirk looked around, trying to distinguish details through the fiery room and blinding smoke. From what he could tell, Imperial and Dominion forces were grouped outside the main engineering door, trying desperately to gain a beachhead. Just inside engineering lay a pile of troopers, all cut down as they tried to breach. As Kirk's narrowed eyes scanned the room, they fell upon fallen Starfleet officers, about two dozen lay dead or dying. He knew throughout the ship battles raged and that there was no way to coordinate them all. He only hoped some skirmishes were going better than others.

"We can't get to them Captain, we've tried but we get cut to pieces." Another blistering exchange caused everyone to lower their heads. "But. They can't get in here, they've been trying since this all started."

"We need to get our injured… Where is Cienna?" Nestled deep into the chasm in the wall, safe from blaster fire worked Cienna. Diligently rerouting power and life support to keep everyone alive, her fingers bled as they crisscrossed wires and junction boxes in a desperate attempt to stay ahead of the problems. As Commander Mortil and his subordinate teams had attempted to takeover particular computer systems, Cienna brilliantly rerouted them into Engineering. Spock, who never stopped fighting was far too busy to have managed such a feat. Now as the invading Force withered all attempted remote access ceased, and Cienna had a moment to breath and rest her fingers.

Kirk scrambled across the floor and into the wall alcove. He pushed up against her, not pulling back like he would a stranger. He held her hands in his and looked down at the bloodied digits.

"Are you ok?" he whispered. She looked into his eyes, but no fear existed in them, just resolve and a stern desire to succeed.

"Yes James, but I need to bring you up-to-date. I've been talking with Spock on and off. Unknown ships have engaged the Dominion forces, we don't know who they are."

"Yes, he told me that before we got cut off."

"Ok, also-" a blast shook the room, and Kirk instinctively pulled her inward, "... I just erected a partial field around our hull, no more Imperials or Dominion forces can beam over. I think about two-hundred came over, it's hard to say. I know one beamed over a moment ago, but-"

"Just one? Maybe a commander? And... two...hundred. That's a lot of troops…" the Captain looked away, his eyes on some distant horizon where he analyzed, planned, and adjusted strategy. The moment didn't last long, a loud cry of pain came from the improvised bunker and a few red shirts scrambled to grab Scotty. Kirk leaped out of the alcove and back towards his men. Scotty lay still, being dragged towards safety; a blaster had hit him square in the chest.

"Kirk to Bones... Bones? Kirk to medical…" only static filled his speaker. The sternest of expressions now filled the Captain's face. He reached over and grabbed a redshirt by the arm, "Ok listen carefully. When I say go, you lay down suppressing fire on the main engineering doors, lay waste to them. I am going to creep up on the left…" as the Captain spewed orders, the faintest perceivable noise crept into his consciousness. Some sort of whizzing and woozing, he had never heard before; and it was getting louder.

"Captain, look." an officer pointed toward the engineering doors, and instead of flickering lights and shadowy movement of stormtroopers, a green-flashing beam spun and twirled in the darkness. Elite troopers and Jem'Hadar were now firing back into the dark corridor, completely ignoring the incoming phaser fire from engineering. To Kirk's surprise, blaster bolts were reflecting off the green energy beam and striking the troops that shot them.

"Cease fire, cease fire." said the captain to his men, they hunkered down, watching and waiting.

Within ten seconds, the last remaining blaster fire sounded off, ending with a sizzling slice of energy. Kirk and his team stayed low, weapons down but alert. The figure walked towards them, still shrouded in darkness but energy weapon in hand. A few feet more and the mysterious person emerged through the doors, the man wore an orange and white pilot uniform, with a white helmet and orange visor. In his hand was a LIGHTSABER, it's green energy crackling and vibrating in the dense smoke.

"Identify yourself." shouted Kirk from behind the bunker.

The weathered pilot deactivated his weapon and pulled off his helmet, revealing a sweaty clump of blonde hair beneath.

"My names Luke Skywalker and I'm here to rescue you."

From behind the bunker, Kirk laid down his phaser rifle and stood up in total shock. He knew Luke's identity from Kinnison's mind connection over a month ago. _Impossible…_

"Han, I found them," reported the Jedi into his wrist communicator.

"Ok kid, sounds good." came the crackled reply of Solo.

Kirk took a staggered step forward, his mouth half agape.

"How… how did you get here?"

"That is a long story. I beamed aboard just before you raised the jamming field. Been… a bit busy." he said, wiping his brow of sweat and pushing his matted hair off his forehead.

 _Clunk..._

 _Clunk..._

 _Clunk..._

Heavy armored footsteps sounded outside the main door, Luke's boyish grin faded and he turned slowly towards the dark corridor. In the recesses of the Force he felt something approaching. Kirk heard the boots as well and knew right away to whom they belonged. Blackness almost material flowed through the broken door into engineering. Smoke turned to soot and fire pulled backward, lifelike and afraid.

Out of the darkness appeared the armored form, moving deliberately, step by step towards the waiting group. Some men say they thought they saw shadows of writhing tentacles flickering against the wall as the fire dimmed and faltered in the strange air. Kirk's heart slid into his throat and looked over at Luke whose body stood tense,

"Luke, that's just a friend."

Clunk…

Clunk…

Clunk…

Kirk took a step forward, both hands facing outward in warm regard.

"John…"

No reply came, and then Kirk saw the facemask, the broken hole still present but no face behind it. Only blackness and the hint of something awful within. Blood and guts oozed down the armor, and after a few steps 'John' tossed his weapon aside and stood still. He did not need it for in his mind erupted a whirlwind of noise and elation.

 **The Deceiver and Jedi. Rip them apart, they are nothing to you**

Luke ignited his lightsaber and stood ready, green energy crackling and throbbing in the smoke-filled room. Reaching deep down into his reserves he calmed his mind and brought forth all Force energy he could muster; he stood ready.

"That's no friend."


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

True Enemy

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Cardassia Prime**

A dark brown table perfectly matched the cold dark walls of the encompassing room. Two metal chairs, uninviting and uncomfortable pulled in close. In each, sat Captain Picard and Gul Dukat, leader of the Cardassian people. Both men had been chatting for about an hour when a young officer ran in and placed a report on the Gul's desk. Picard did not ask what it was, there was no need. Across the face of the Cardassian a cascade of emotions surfaced over several minutes of reading. Starting from curiosity to anger, and finally, sadness. Only the air flowing into the Cardassians hot nostrils filled the room, his eyes closed as he pondered the next steps.

"Picard. Do you know what this is?"

Picard studied his counterpart closely, years of diplomatic experience told him that _the_ opportunity may have come.

"No, what is in that report?"

"It seems the battle of the Demilitarized Zone has ended. Over seven-hundred ships took part in that battle, of those, nearly one-hundred and fifty, Cardassian."

"Yes, I know, I received detailed reports from the Admiralty."

Dukat ignored the remark and continued with his remorseful summary.

"On my ships, the finest officers in the Union. Nearly one-hundred thousand."

Picard let out a soft sigh, he knew how deeply the Cardassians cherished their family bonds. Like humans their ancestry placed family at the center of their individual universes. Over the last seventy years, their culture had morphed into a militaristic dystopia, where blackmail and ruthless ambition was rewarded.

"Gul Dukat. Our ships held a compliment of more than one-hundred and ninety-"

"Yes! But your fleet escaped total disaster!" his fist furiously smashing down upon the table. Still breathing hotly, Dukat stood and paced the floor. "How? How did this happen? The Vorta promised that all would be ok, that your wretched fleet would crumple like Nizeelium Slime Devils in autumn. And. The Klingons, those… pesky lunatics. They are using bio-weapons! The Vorta tell us to continue, to take the brunt of the attacks, because all will be ok in the end!" Spat Dukat venomously.

There was little that could be said to quell the anger and sorrow of the Cardassian leader. Across the entire front, stretching between the demilitarized zone and Klingon space, all manner of Cardassian trooper slaughtered or was slaughtered. Kill or be killed. In the eyes of Gul Dukat and his leadership team, the benefits did not outweigh the costs, little in the way of territory was being gained inside the Klingon Empire, planets burned and cities fell, but nothing of any value remained.

Picard's eyes watched the leader pace back and forth, hands clasped with eyes facing the floor.

"How did a ship a hundred years old manage to destroy dozens, perhaps a hundred of ours? How did it achieve such incredible speed?" Jean-Luc did not know. Not privy to the final and detailed results of the battle, he continued to sit and watch the boiling Cardassian.

"I am sorry Dukat for your losses. To their families and to their loved ones. Captain Kirk is a resourceful member of the Federation. But, the war continues. The war will take more lives and more territory." Dukat stopped pacing, his eyes pulling themselves away from the floor and over towards Picard, he stood silent, waiting. "I do not know what manner of mechanisms caused such great destruction, but I know one thing of Captain Kirk. He doesn't believe in losing."

"One man cannot win a war."

"Is that what this battle represents Dukat? One man? One victory? You should know your opponents better than that."

"Do not insult me!" Spat Dukat, now leaning against the table, both hands firmly planted into the cold steel.

"He represents an ideal. A long time ago on Earth, an island nation called Britain was hemmed in. It faced extinction, like we now face extinction." Picard, a student of history held firm, and with eyes unwavering he began his recital. "We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender."

Somewhere, deep down in the subconscious of Dukat, small cogs of a larger wheel began to turn. After a moment or two, Dukat pulled away from the table and stood still, his eyes locked.

"I see…"

"Before I leave Dukat, can I say something? I took time to read about your culture on my journey here, I found something in our archives. I translated it from Cardassian to English, you may recognize it. Under two moons and one star we reach, and climb, and stagger and even fall. Our children's children will feel our climb, not in their legs but in their minds, hearts, and souls. We must rise or our children will fall."

Silence, dead and sudden. Gul Dukat's face a blank stare. Picard smiled softly as he knew that the translation was not in error.

"Picard. That...that is the oath, the sacred oath. Not our current one, but the first, and most treasured. We…" Dukat now looked elsewhere, perhaps to his past. "... we no longer use that. The old oath is ten-thousand years old. How… how did you have a copy of this?"

"Remember, our two people's were friends once. Do you really believe the Dominion holds your best interests at heart? That all your sacrifices will be for something pleasant? War will continue, if we are beaten, there will be another. It will never end. You see Dukat, that is the price of power. Maintaining it requires sacrifice, but not from those who wield it." Walking around the table, the two men now stood face to face, the crushing burden of loss weighing on both. "I think if you let your people look without the blinders the Dominion have placed upon them, they will see their true enemy."

Dukat's face shared a thousand words without uttering one.

And at that moment, in a cold gloomy room, the Cardassian-Federation war ended.

 **Imperial Galaxy - Outer Rim - Outland Transit Station**

Pressurized steam flowed from mechanical pistons lowering the ramp onto the floor. An Imperial shuttle, joined by four-dozen troop transports deployed their contents inside the main hangar deck of the grim station. Stormtroopers rushed out in two-man formations, accompanied by Imperial droids of varied abilities and duties. Beyond the protective screen leading into space, another round of transports ready to drop troops. As the boarding platoons fanned out into the surrounding service-tunnels Darth Vader made his dramatic entrance. Walking boldly down the first transport ramp, he stopped at the bottom to survey the situation, his mechanical breathing loud and present.

"Commander Beutel."

A small thin man rushed down the ramp and slid to a halt.

"Yes my lord?"

"See to it your men lock down this station. Have your bio-scanners set to the exact frequency I have designated."

"Aye." Beutel scurried off in another direction, leaving Vader to sift through the Force. He had been drawn to this location, _something waits..._ Striding toward the exit doors with security team in tow he continued to push outward with his mind, searching and seeking for answers. Unsure of what exactly he sought, only knowing it was probably a shapeshifter, the same that had engineered the destruction of Kuat. All evidence, specific or circumstantial pointed to an infiltration effort by hundreds or perhaps thousands of Founders, but the Force told him something different. _It isn't thousands…_ The bio-scanners brought aboard tuned precisely to detect biological reorganization at a molecular level, if anything changed shape, the scanner would go off.

A shout from a troop commander broke his concentration,

"What is that pilot doing? Stop! Stop!"

Vader whirled around to see a landing shuttle lifting off and fly further into the hangar. A sharp intake of mechanical air filled his dilapidated lungs, and within the helmet his eyes focused like lasers. Across the hangar deck men ran towards the shuttle, blasting at the cockpit. Instantly within the Dark Lord, anger swelled and he reached outward with his hand, ready to choke the neck of the wayward pilot. But it was not to be. The darkside of the Force told him to raise his defenses. Suddenly an intense blistering pain smashed into Vader's mind like a supernova. Not since the lake of fire on Mustafar where Anakin fell, had he faced such incredible anguish. Key neuron-relays connecting the biological to the technological spasmed and his mechanical legs buckled, his vision spun in all directions. The impossible pain continued. Troops rushed forward to help their fallen leader, and for the first time they heard him screaming through the mask. The power drilling into his mind pressed onward, down and in, deeper and deeper through his defenses. In another second Vader's mind would be snuffed out, obliterated. Then he thought of Obi-wan, _it was his fault Padme was killed! Obi-wan's fault that his son now fought for the light. Kenobi!_

With renewed anger, Vader shifted his focus to only his mental defenses, and like all darkside users of the Force; pain, suffering, fear, and anger, all brought power. As more and more power flowed through Vader, the unbelievable mental attack waned. Not entirely, only in the slightest degree. Whatever morsel of free psychological energy remained now attempted to restore his vision, still unfocused and seeing stars, but enough to have a sense of direction. Partially restored vision and hearing began to register his surroundings. The rogue troop transport slid along the ground straight toward him, only a second away. Every instinct, every Force warning told him to escape. Through the blinding pain, Vader wrestled for his lightsaber and ignited it.

Another deadly warning.

A stormtrooper standing a few feet away, always loyal, now turned his weapon upon his master and fired. The bolt a sure bet to strike home, deflected away at the last possible moment by the red crimson saber. The trooper, acting far more professional and trained than an average conscript, dropped to his stomach and began raining fire upon the Dark Lord. Weathering the attack with his lightsaber, he had now run out of time to escape the sliding and grinding troop transport. There was only one direction to go. No cohesive or organized thought could even be formed inside the blistering head of the once mighty but now withering Darth Vader.

Fighting off the urge to scream and crumple from the mental load, Vader turned his lightsaber down and cut a circle around himself. Instantly the floor fell, its red-hot metal edges giving way and down through the hole Vader fell. As he fell forty feet to the deck below, a terrific explosion erupted above. Metal beams and reinforced-columns snapped like toothpicks as three shuttle engines simultaneously exploded. In dizzying vision, between the spinning stars and blurred lights, Vader thought he saw a titanic fireball expanding overhead. More warnings from the Force told him to raise his physical defenses, but he could not. Everything he could muster, had ever mustered, now focused solely on the mental attack. Endless waves of throbbing telepathic energy bombarding his consciousness, drilling and smashing him to pieces. A large section of ceiling gave way and fell downward, at the last possible moment Vader rolled out of the way, finally collapsing into a heap on the ground.

Emergency shields snapped on to seal the atmosphere inside the station, the kilometer long hole blown in the side exposing many to the elements, floating in space, dead. Vader lay alone among the rubble, chard, broken, but alive. He knew his troops above did not survive, he could practically see the gaping hole through the smoldering ruinous ceiling and supporting walls. He stood slowly, his legs despite being mechanical shook while finding new ground, his mind still recovering from the now halted mental attack. Somewhere not far off, the sound of moving ruble caught his attention, someone was making their way down a steep embankment of broken wall and durasteel. Fire licked at the shadows and everywhere smoke billowed and rose towards the emergency shield overhead.

"Lord Vader? Lord Vader are you alright?" A lone stormtrooper limped into view, one arm a twisted mess, blood streaming from the armored hinges. Vader assessed his injuries. Some electrical components hung ragged and many tears and scratchings littered his black outfit. After a moment of examining his damaged servos, a sudden urge overtook him. _**Danger**_ **!** Instantly Vader pushed all his Force power forward, hitting the stormtrooper square in the chest. The unexpected move sent the trooper flying backward, but to the dismay of Vader, the prepared soldier had already detached a thermal detonator and thrown it forward! Half-caught in the telekinetic push from Vader, the grenade hung in midair. The trooper hit the ground but somersaulted backward, landing on his feet all the while unholstering his sidearm in the process. But it was too late, the grenade detonated and both men flew back. Thanks only for the Force shield did Vader survive, the same technique he had used against Captain Solo's attack months earlier. Remnants of the trooper filled the four walls, beyond dead.

Quiet fell upon the level where Vader lay. His long black cape a tattered mess, shredded and smoldering with fire. Why his troops turned on him, or the cause of the massive explosions overhead could not be answered. The mental attack which he only now was coming to grips with, left him exhausted. Within the black helmet, his eyes closed allowing for full concentration. The Force pushed outward, seeking and searching the station. _If I die now, I will never see Padme again, and Kenobi will have won._

After a minute of meditation,

 _There... in the merchant district._

Something or someone sat in an alley between shops, _that is no panhandler_. A sporadic blue silhouette then appeared in the darkness in front of Vader, the Captain of the Executor.

"My lord! Are you ok?"

Pushing against his knee, the Dark Lord rose off the ground,'

"Fine Captain."

"We cannot land any more transports, the-"

"Signal the troops and bounty hunters already aboard the station to deploy on Merchant Level, Section J."

The blue hologram flickered away and now the darkness returned. Through the Force, no user could be detected. There were no Jedi aboard the station save himself, _they, or it, are not using the Force as a weapon._ This disturbed Vader as he worked his way through destroyed doorways and clogged corridors towards the Merchant Level. In the decades since the fall of the Republic he had killed many Jedi, fought many battles but none had been like this. This enemy was different, _perhaps the leader of the Founders… or… something else entirely._ The more he felt with the Force he more he doubted this foe was the same as he had sensed in Thrawn's command room in the Milky Way. _That_ s _omething_ _moved in the shadows, a vast network working against us. Does the Emperor sense it as well? Does Darth Maul?_ Feeling far more extensive than the Rebels, Founders, or Federation; colossal, _an organization or group spanning galaxies. This is something else._

After twenty minutes of walking and coordinating with various commanders, Vader reached the Merchant Level. Standing above on the guardrail, the same his son had stood against months earlier, he looked down at the human nest of commerce and trafficking. No station-wide order for evacuation had signaled, there was no point. Of all the aliens who called Outland their home, only a handful had ships. Many had come years earlier, often trading their ships or just taxiing to the station and never leaving. Escape pods numbered few and far between, certainly not enough to usher all to safety.

Vader looked downward, and his focus shifted to the recent past, the trap he had set for his son. _Luke, the Force is strong with him_. The Darkside had told him where his son would be and when, Vader had seen a vision of them fighting in the street. But other images remained. The Force had shown him other realities that perhaps once were, or will never be. Their battle on Cloud City, and the eventual destruction of the second Death Star. As it stood now, Vader could not imagine turning against the Emperor as he had seen in his dreams, _that was another reality_. Vader felt Luke needed to be found, captured and taught the ways of the Darkside.

IG-88 an android bounty hunter hired by the Empire to help keep watch of their recruitment effort on the station walked up to Vader and offered his services.

"Lord Vader, I report to you for duty." A black gloved hand rose up to silence the android. Vader saw glimpses of the near future, small tidbits of information that may be crucial in the next few minutes. He wished to capture the strange person sitting in the alley begging for food or credits. _Could it be this is a powerful telepath?_ Telepaths were not unknown to the Imperial Galaxy, but none with this sort of power and control.

"IG-88," grumbled Vader. "If any Imperial troop acts out of order, or any civilian, kill them."

"As you wish," the bloopy voice of the android conveyed a hint of surprise and doubt.

"Move your men into section J, walk along this street," Vader pointed down and towards the left, a long ally zigzagged its way through the enormous mile long merchant section. Without another word, the obedient bounty hunter moved out and formed up with his pack of hired guns, subcontractors who assisted the robot on missions.

A loud thud sounded as Vader leaped over the railing and landed in street below. People gasped and moved out of the way as he strode through the crowd, his tattered cape flowing behind. Confidently walking towards his target, more orders were sent to the teams already within the district. He planned to set a trap, one he believed would catch the telepathic-Founder before an attempted escape.

After two minutes, a report came in from IG-88,

"Lord Vader," came the crackly voice, "we have found a dead officer, Major McMallum. It appears she has been mugged, something was torn off her duty belt. ID badge indicates her assignment on Kuat Drive Yards. Biometric scan shows human."

Continuing to walk through the parting crowd, Vader considered the consequences of this new information. _Why is she here? How did she escape?_ He could not be sure, and the Force did not help him. A new batch of troops ran up alongside, the commander giving his Dark Lord a nod before taking the flank and preparing for combat. After a few more blocks one of the troopers shouted frantically,

"Shapeshifter!" But Vader knew better, no warning came, _that only means…_

Spinning around on his heel, Vader slashed and decapitated the shouting trooper, setting off a flurry of activity. Immediately the squad turned their weapons inward and fired. Six of the seven shots were absorbed, the other hitting Vader in his mechanical arm, sparks flew into the air and men fell left and right. Now Darth Vader took no chances, everyone and anyone fell to his blade. Strange traders and merchant pirates rushed out of their storefronts with weapons drawn, some screaming for revenge for the destruction of Alderaan, others shouting of shapeshifting aliens running amuck throughout the district.

Vader pushed onward, hacking and slicing his way through friend and foe alike. People and animal turned on him, a suicide bomber jumped from the railing overhead but was pushed back and exploded harmlessly high above. Pieces of flesh rained downward as more and more people panicked and ran. The Force told him that his target was moving, walking up a flight of stairs onto the deck above.

A thunderous explosion ripped apart the zigzagging alley to Vader's left. Debris spilled over and several merchant shops burst into flames, smoke billowed and then Vader saw it. Coming to a stop just ahead, the rolling head of IG-88, obliterated. _His band must have turned on him._ _It is just like Kuat, Outland is tearing itself to pieces._ This fact made Vader angry, he did not want to lose another installation to the Founders, especially one whose power would go unchecked throughout the galaxy. _I need to stop it here and now._

Clearing his head, Vader looked up at the overhang. Just above but out of view sat the telepath, no longer sitting but waiting. It also kept a form of company, several others stood close, also waiting and watching. Danger signs rushed into his consciousness, the Force told him to be wary, to be on absolute alert. Channeling all his power, he took in a deep breath and jumped forty-feet up over the railing and onto the grated platform above. To Vader's surprise, the people standing around the Founder were stormtroopers, all pointing their weapons at the human cowering against the wall.

"Lord Vader! We have him." For the slightest of moments Vader hesitated, he did not expect this. But then he felt a surging DANGER! Unfortunately for the Dark Lord, the hesitation proved a mistake. Vader's head snapped back as if hit with a sledgehammer, the telepathic assault had resumed. Exploding stars and whirling scenery overtook Darth Vader's vision, the unbearable and unstoppable pain once again took his sight and sense of surrounding. Only the Force guided him now. Adding to this incredible assault, all at once the troopers turned and fired. Unable to erect his absorption field due to the mental load, bolts not redirected with his lightsaber struck home. Pieces of machinery and servos blew-apart, but the attack did not rest. With lightning speed, the Founder bolted from the wall and connected a titanic kick to the dark master's abdomen. The herculean effort sent Vader backward towards the railing he had just surmounted. The troopers rushed forward in unison, the granite carved Founder taking the lead. Vader smashed through the railing, finding himself falling backward through the air, deflecting blaster bolts along the way. Within the quickly imploding mind of Vader everything seemed to be playing out in slow motion. With visibility limited, the grated platform grew smaller and smaller as he fell back.

Unexpectedly, jumping clear into the air atop the railing came the Founder and troopers. They dove downward, continuing their assault. But what came down was no Founder, but a Lensman. A Second Stage Lensman. Kinnison reached back into his waistband and produced a new weapon, a Delameter. Its unstoppable energy sure to vaporize the Dark Lord and his saber. Despite unyielding mental anguish, frantic danger signals swarmed into whatever cavity of consciousness remained. Death would be instant, and unavoidable. He needed to act. Now. Kinnison depressed the trigger and at that exact moment the gun ripped from his hand and met its demise by Vader's blade. The brief and momentary degrading of his mental defenses almost killing him.

Instinctively the Dark Lord righted himself to soften his landing. Stormtrooper's smashed into the ground like rain, each stabbed or decapitated as they fell; but not the Lensman. Landing on top of a trooper, Kinnison instantly ignited a shielded baton, and threw everything he had into a savage attack. Blade and baton met and energies crackled. All troopers lay dead, only Vader and Kinnison stood toe-to-toe. Vader disengaged to reorient himself, but no quarter was given. With no troops to control, more mental power collided into Vader's crumbling Force defense.

 _ **WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!**_ A flurry of lunges and gouging baton attacks pushed Vader backward, bolts of telepathic power rammed home and the gasping mechanical breathing intensified. Half blinded and with mental sirens the volume of jet engines blasting into his ears, Vader pressed. A mistake.

Easily parrying a light-hearted lightsaber lunge, Kinnison dodged sideways and with an outstretched arm, smashed his baton into the left cheek of Vader. Pieces of helmet and armor erupted into the air and like a large tower, the mangled and broken Dark Lord collapsed forward onto the ground. Kinnison raised his baton for a killing blow when he was sent careening across the room. With nothing to lose, Vader unleashed a sustained telekinetic attack, gambling to suffocate his enemy before the mental attack killed him.

Kimbal now found himself pressed against a bulkhead in a crucifix position. Around his throat a deadly grip, he felt his windpipe crunching, blood gurgled up into his mouth and his vision faded to black. Within Vader's mind, all hope had been lost, now sensing his imminent death with the telepathic drill nearly penetrating his defenses. It would soon be over. On his hands and knees, with one arm raised horizontally to concentrate his power, his exposed eye and cheek shook violently under the load. With eyes flickering and tears running, at the very last of his wits he thought of nothing but Padme and his son Luke. _I failed them both…_ This thought, a final possible thought gave him the strength to last a moment longer, a crucial and life-saving second.

Now out of oxygen, Kinnison calmly activated his ocular implant to signal the Dauntless. His incredible mind multitasking as he went. Across the station many Imperial recruiters dropped dead, along with a handful of key bounty hunters, their fragile minds blasted. A shimmery-glow engulfed the Lensman and he disappeared, retreating to fight another day.

Vader collapsed face-first into the ground, exhausted and overwhelmed. He did not know it yet, and not for many days. Not until he healed physically and mentally, would he discover new knowledge waiting within.

Onboard the Dauntless a few thousand kilometers away, Kinnison tugged at his collar and took in deep breaths his oxygen-starved body so desperately craved. _Holy Krono…_ With a stiff limp from his blown knees, he climbed into his captain's chair and switched on a few screens, reflecting on the recent battle. _So then, the Force is real. The Jedi, the Sith… it's all real._ Up until this point, only vague stories from the snatched thoughts and memories of civilians, Imperial officers and bounty hunters offered him any glimpse into that old religion. _The Force seems to allow the user telekinetic power, and… somehow he tracked me down within that enormous facility. How? How did he block all those blaster bolts?_ Unlike a mechanical thought-screen the likes of which were used in abundance by Boskone agents, this 'block' felt different to the Lensman. As if a third-party stood between him and Vader's mind. _It must be the Force…_

Pulling a device from his pocket he lay it down in front of him. _A Boskone thought-screen. Unmistakable._ MajorKate McMallum, chased from Kuat Drive Yards to Outland Transit Station, intending to rendezvous with a fat Romulan named Teemar. Kinnison's controlled goons had stripped her of the thought-screen. Her past mission now residing with Kinnison. Terrified may be an understatement to describe his exact mood. Her mission aboard Kuat involved the stealing of hyper-matter reaction chamber specifications. For a month she had sent encrypted data out to unknown recipients. Teemar the Romulan slug never showed, _perhaps spooked by the destruction of Kuat… In any case, they may now suspect I am operating in this Galaxy._

Pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, Kinnison closed his eyes and concentrated on the last few days. He felt frustrated, his plan worked, but not wholly, _not entirely. I cannot take over the mind of the Emperor, if he is a Sith like many suspect, he will surely be more powerful than Vader. Infiltration would take months and success may not be possible… Kuat is history and so are the recruiters and go-betweens for the bounty hunter effort. No protracted war is possible for the Empire, but…_ This next point made him feel ill, _with my failure to kill Darth Vader, I have exposed myself to the Empire and possibly Boskone. Depending on how smart their leaders are, they may already suspect…_ Despite the rollercoaster analysis of his situation, a small smile formed in the crevice of his mouth. In the final moments before his teleportation, buried beneath his attack and penetrating the Force shield of Vader, lay the knowledge of Boskone. Kinnison had expertly slipped it through the guard, the Force correctly deeming it a non-threat. _I could not reveal the Dalek's, the Empire may miscalculate and disclose their knowledge of them._

Razor-sharp and dangerous are words best used to describe the strategy being employed. _The Empire, if correctly incented would bring valuable resources to hunt the Dalek down. But. What if they do not share the same appreciation for the danger? The Kuat Drive Yard destruction should force their retreat._ Reflection and concentration continued. _But what of Boskone? Do they know of the Dalek? Could they? We only know of them from Cienna's first-hand knowledge and the pure absurd luck she survived her ships destruction… But Boskone doesn't want to kill everyone, just control them. Rule them. Would they also try and hunt down the Dalek threat? Can we team up with Boskone? No. Absurd. They will do whatever they can to gain an advantage._ The questions and self-doubt continued. _If the Empire could be swayed to hunt down Boskone agents within their own galaxy...perhaps another incentive to pull back from the Milky Way...Yes, I stand by my decision. Vader can live._

Kinnison slowly pulled his finger off the 'energize' button, on the transporter-pad a two-hundred megaton bomb with coordinates set for inside the station. A swift series of inputs and the Dauntless shot into hyperspace,

 _Time to bring Jimbo up to speed._


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The Hottest Fires Forge the Hardest Steel

 **Milky Way - Galactic Rim**

Squeaking rubber of dragged boots filled the ears of every Imperial Officer too stunned to speak. The ranking Intelligence officer, D. Lambert, aboard the Super Star Destroyer Vigilant lay dead. Darth Maul stood front and center, surveying the scene, his eyes carefully looking over charts, maps, and readouts. A small glance downward the only indication of a second-thought formed for his victim as two guards dragged the body out.

"Tell me," Maul's steely voice directed to Thrawn, who stood at full attention just several feet away. "The Emperor demanded you conquer the humans of Earth. Your plan, to use the Dominion as a tool is in jeopardy. Your inability to capture their lead commander a failure. The Federation 8th fleet, which you promised complete destruction, survives."

"Yes Lord Maul..." admittance, the only virtue keeping Thrawn alive.

An awkward silence descended on the room, no one dared say a word or move a muscle. Across the galaxy, the entire Rebel fleet had exited hyperspace just a few thousand kilometers from the battle of the Demilitarized Zone. The armada of Dominion and Cardassian ships obliterated. In Thrawn's mind, the situation blistered his consciousness. _Why did the Rebels choose that area? How did they obtain a star-chart of the Galaxy?_ Equally worrying was the questioning of his command. _Why is this Sith questioning my judgment? He nearly died on the Romulan moon of Sulsa, ambushed by Mechanized Infantry when searching for a rogue Bounty Hunter. He is lucky to be alive..._

Maul's yellow eyes glistened and penetrated the Grand Admiral, perhaps feeling the hatred and frustration.

"Do you have something to say Grand Admiral?" contempt and annoyance evident under his cloaked face.

"My Lord. So much is occurring at once. I must order the Dominion fleet waiting in the Gamma Quadrant to pass through the Bajoran wormhole into the Alpha Quadrant. Without that distraction, the small Dominion fleet may not reach Betazed. And if that does not happen, many telepaths will survive and our plan ruined."

"Your plan is already ruined Grand Admiral, with the Rebels now in this galaxy, they will tell their story and the plight of the Rebellion will spread. We are revealed."

Thrawn acknowledged _**some**_ parts of this statement to be accurate, but there existed a small chance to escape complete ruin.

"I have dispatched Admiral Piett to intercept the Rebel fleet within the Demilitarized Zone. If it can be crushed before entering hyperspace, we may yet keep them from telling their story."

"Hope for your sake that your plan works Grand Admiral, you will die surely if it does not. Prepare my ship, Boba Fett and I are to destroy the holding facility in Tokyo, Earth."

 _What?! Destroy?!_ Thrawn stood silent but his red eyes betrayed him. The campaign called for their rescue not destruction

"My Lord, the campaign-"

"It is the will of the Emperor, no loose ends can remain. There are already too many deserters, the Emperor cannot afford more. You have one last chance. Grand Admiral."

Turning on his heels, Darth Maul briskly exited the command deck, and with him the heart-wrenching anxiety in every man and woman. As soon as the coast appeared clear, Captain Needa hurried over,

"Grand Admiral! The Cardassians have sent out an all channel message across the Alpha Quadrant. They and the Federation have reached a truce. They will no longer be party to any acts against them." Thrawn's eyes blinked.

Stunned.

Slowly the dawning possibility of mission failure crept its way into the recesses of Thrawn's formidable brain. _How… Why?_ Needa read the expression precisely and continued his urgent briefing. "According to the Founder who was privy to the meeting, Picard, captain of-"

"I know who Picard is you nitwit!" snapped Thrawn, the exceptionally rare showing of emotion sending shock waves across the bridge. The slow deterioration of his master plan kept him awake at night, but he felt they could still prevail.

Across the room on a small monitor, manned by an unimportant junior officer, came at first gentle flashes of red. The unlikely officer looked over and gulped, the alert grew brighter with each passing second. With the stakes higher than ever, he raised his hand slowly into the air, it shook under the unwanted stress. Thrawn noted small beads of sweat coming down the man's forehead and rushed over.

"Report."

With a dancing finger, the analyst pointed at his screen and tried to convey the danger.

"In… incom... incoming ships to Demilitarized Zone. They will arrive at the same time as Admiral Piett." Yanking the officer out of his chair, Thrawn slammed down into the seat and studied the screen. Before he fully grasped what he saw, in the back of his head he already knew. _Colonists._ He hated being right. Traveling at warp twelve, over six- _ **HUNDRED**_ small craft barreled towards the Rebels and Enterprise.

 _Have the Maquis terrorists spread throughout all colony worlds? Will they help the Rebels? Where did such a fleet assemble?_

Pushing a few controls, Thrawn traced its origin back several minutes, then dialing and pressing more buttons, he dug deeper. Looking and cross-referencing several probe droids scattered throughout the sector a pattern emerged. Hours earlier, like ants crawling out of holes across an entire lawn, the ships spawned from hundreds of worlds within the Demilitarized Zone. All coordinating and moving in unison towards a single point in space. The Enterprise and Rebel Fleet. _All colony worlds are launching craft... Are they going to try and recruit the Rebels?_

"Grand Admiral." Came the voice of another officer,

"Yes?" Asked Thrawn not looking away from his screen.

"1st Dominion fleet reporting incoming."

Jolting from his chair, Thrawn purposefully marched over and grabbed the datapad from the back-peddling Lieutenant. Before his eyes could adjust, he interrupted only a massive globular pulsation on the small screen. Re-focusing, he peered at the small display of measured contacts. _That's… impossible._

"Grand Admiral?" Needa nervously peaked over the shoulder of his commander, "What? How?"

Thrawn's eyes faced the floor, his mind processing other vistas of strategy, alternative ideas requiring attention. Signaling a control officer, a large topographical map of the Alpha Quadrant appeared overheard. To the bottom right, a red blip indicating the Betazed destruction fleet. Numbering slightly less than one-hundred Dominion cruisers and a few Dreadnaughts, mixed-fleet-four sped toward the telepaths homeworld. Starfleet detection grids had alerted their command and control and a small fleet still in its infancy, formed in the general vicinity of Betazed. Thrawn noted mixed-fleet would arrive in six days, and unless he miscalculated, would arrive before a realistic fleet could mass to counter it. A dozen Cardassian cruisers appeared to veer off and head back toward Cardassia, their peace treaty not allowing for further aggression. _They will pay, they will all pay for their cowardice._

"I want everyone to listen carefully. The 1st Dominion fleet which awaits our orders to move into the Alpha Quadrant is at risk. We must act now or we invite these pirates to follow. As it stands now, five-thousand ships of many makes and models are on an intercept course. Our probe droids track them, in about nine days they will make contact. We can no longer wait for our plan to naturally unfold, the Dominion 1st fleet must come through or risks being destroyed. Send word to the Vorta Administrators, tell them to prepare."

Now directing his orders to Needa, Thrawn continued to dictate instructions.

"Have the wormhole-weapon readied and primed. We will deliver it ourselves. Then we will lay waste to the Founder's."

Needa charged off giving Thrawn time to study and precisely tune his new rushed tactics. As before, the bottom right of the topographical map indicated the mixed-fleet, towards the bottom left the Bajoran Wormhole, and dead center, Earth. The Grand Admiral envisioned the remnants of the 1st Dominion fleet steaming towards their target, _how many ships will survive the minefield protecting the Bajoran exit? Will there be enough to draw the Federation away from all outlying worlds and defend their core territory?_ He could not be sure, and now there was no room for error. Looking down at his datapad he noted the Dominion fleet numbers. _Twenty-seven-hundred ships… more than enough, their minefield cannot possibly destroy that many._

Total domination of the Galaxy never caused him concern, with over a thousand star destroyers operating beyond the rim, he knew there existed a full-proof backup plan. But he felt it would not work, not in the long-run. Knowing that occupation leads to rebellions gave him pause. _We must be liberators, our own ships must destroy the Dominion._ Even with the absolute belief of the Empire's ability to utterly dominate the Federation, an uncomfortable feeling resided within him. The resourcefulness and seemingly coordinated efforts of the Colonists. _How can they have so many resources?_ Another development needing attention were the bands of pirates operating within the Gamma Quadrant. _What are the chances of these two organizations or groups attacking my forces simultaneously, forty-thousand light-years apart? They can't communicate at that distance… we would have detected any stolen hyperspace transmitters…_ The Empire's so named Colonist-Pirate puzzle, frustrated many analysts working on the problem. Thousands of droids had plugged into the project, tracing money, guns and credits to dead-ends. Tortured informants never planning more than a few steps ahead, Founders hopelessly lost among the intertwined and naive operators, and daily or weekly double-crosses of bounty hunters still loyal to the Empire.

Regaining his composure, Thrawn took a deep breath and looked 'off', thinking and concentrating on the variables, but a key unknown plagued his precise concentration. _Boba Fett's report on the Romulan moon Sulsa._ The report itself was available weeks ago, all during Maul's surgery and restoration process analysis continued round the clock. Precise information was lacking due to the Romulan obsession with targeting and tracking probe droids within their territory. _Strange occurrences continue within the Romulan Empire…_

Three Founders and six bounty hunters had gone missing, one turning up in Ferragni space working in a gun smuggling ring, only discovered by fluke by a routine audit of informants within a local system. The Emperor's decree had instructed Thrawn to conquer the Galaxy but with a priority on the Federation, especially Earth. _We will have to destroy the Romulans by force if necessary…_ Just then, a new thought crossed the Grand Admiral's mind. _Missing Romulan production tonnage by the thousand… resources being used but no output detected. Could it be? Could the Romulans be supplying both the Colonists and Pirates?_ A second longer and the idea was dismissed as quickly as it had formed. _No. They could not move millions of tons of material through Federation space into the Demilitarized Zone, let alone the Gamma Quadrant. The Bajor wormhole is patrolled on both ends, and our droids cover large swaths of territory._ With the idea now dismissed, Thrawn flicked on a monitor and re-read a summarized encounter on Sulsa prepared by the now dead analyst chief. The report had been pieced together from Boba Fett and Maul's description along with other intelligence apparatuses within the area.

 **[[[[**

Chief D. Lambert,

Senior Head, Analyst Division 3

Mission : Signa Four - ParSortum

Boba Fett received a tip from Ferengi trader to follow routes of local merchant shipments along the Romulan border. Told to track purchases of Element 133, a necessary component for the production of Dioplaxican. Lord Maul, through unknown means, located an uncharted settlement on the Romulan moon Sulsa. No indication Slave-I was detected upon entering orbit. According to computer records, it had maintained a full cloak for the entire duration of the mission.

At 02:00 hours local time, Lord Maul and Boba Fett approached the settlement from the river basin. ParSortum was rumored to be close, but they were unsure of which residence. While climbing over the steep river bank, they were ambushed by heavily armed men using an unknown explosive-driven device. We believe based on galaxy-wide research, that they were using what humans on Earth refer to as 'high caliber machine-guns' and exotic energy weapons. The attackers were also operating heavily armored and shielded mechanical armor, Boba Fett's weapons were unable to pierce the shielding.

Additionally, a thrown lightsaber also failed to pierce the shielding. Unable to push the attack and with their backs to the river, Lord Maul and Boba Fett were trapped. Intelligence suggests that three, perhaps four attackers were killed by a 'choke,' but we have been unable to verify this from Lord Maul.

Subsequent explosive attacks using thrown and fired explosions caused severe wounds to Lord Maul. It was at this point that his left leg and arm were severed. Boba Fett initiated an emergency beam-out. Once aboard Slave-1, emergency medical procedures were started as they prepared to depart to rendezvous coordinates.

We are unable to reliably verify how the Slave 1 was detected, but at 02:09 it was attacked by ground-based weapons as well as ships in low-orbit.

I assess that the unknown assailants were of an unknown organization, we have not witnessed or heard of any such weapons or mechanical suits up to this point.

Recommendation: Assign one-hundred Founders to the infiltration of the Romulan Empire.

 **]]]]**

Thrawn switched off the analysis document, he had not sent the Founders. Too many Bounty Hunters were deserting, at last count, over three-thousand had disappeared, been killed or went rogue. _We are being attacked from all sides…_

"Grand Admiral! Emergency signal relay coming through the wormhole. Lord Vader has engaged a Telepathic-Founder on Outland Transit Station." As if connecting pieces of a scattered puzzle, Thrawn's brain snapped together various ideas loosely toyed with, but not seriously considered, until now.

 _Of course… that is how they penetrated Kuat. We need to have droids running the bio-scanners._

"Also," continued the debriefing. "The Death Star's assembly hub was attacked by ships associated with the Metallurgical Guild on Nexus 7, several hours after the battle of Outland. Vital blueprints for the superlaser were stolen, as well as design-schematics for the hypermatter reactor. According to Admiral Johnson, the battle station was not the target and escaped damage. It is scheduled for full operation in thirty-four days."

Thrawn mulled everything over, doing his best to prioritize avenues of action. _Does someone really believe they could build an entire Death Star without us knowing? The Rebels still seem to have quite an influence in the Imperial Galaxy… or perhaps the Guild is being controlled by more Founders?_

"Send a priority-1 message to Admiral Johnson. Order all bio-scanners to be manned by droids not soldiers. Set to detect shapeshifters. Keep me updated on Death Star construction schedule. Is there anything else?"

"Unusual activity coming from the Metron homeworld. Our probe droids are being disabled in a greater sphere surrounding their territory. The last signal showed strange energy readings spreading in all directions."

Thrawn observed on a holographic map the ever-expanding sphere of 'blackouts' from his probes. The Metrons were pushing outward, now more than seventy light years in all directions.

 _I need the Death Star_

 **Milky Way - Demilitarized Zone - Enterprise**

Green energy hummed and shimmered in the ever-darkening engineering bay. A foulness crept along the floor and into the hearts of everyone present. Pouring out of 'John,' a torrential flood of DOOM incarnate; hate, fear, and absolute madness. Kirk noted the ambient change in temperature, staleness, and stench of the air. Somewhere he heard jibbering and perhaps the hoof feet of unsanctioned terror stalking about.

"John..." Dropping his phaser, Kirk took a step forward to stand beside Luke, facing his deranged companion. "You saved us. Thank you." No reply. Just crackling and flickering fires, ever-dwindling under the strange and expanding darkness. Luke and Kirk's eyes strained to see through the smoke. They thought they saw John's face through the broken faceplate, but they could not be sure. Something appeared to move and shift within the helmet. Kirk lifted his right leg and shook his foot, he thought for a moment that something had crawled up his shin. Others scratched an unexpected itch on their back or neck.

Luke sensed movement, but could not precisely locate it.

 _Where is this coming from?_ Questioned the Jedi. _It's… like things are moving in some sort of strange place that the Force cannot reach._

John lifted his right hand and studied it, squeezing it tightly and then relaxing. Within his mind a hurricane smashed against the last of his will, the last of his reason.

 **The Deceiver tries to trick you. Her tattered hands touched by his, her aching body held. No fire of Earth can harm you, like those before, like those again. Their souls will be yours, consume them.**

Kirk slapped away a noise from his ear, and scratched a sudden itch behind his arm. The awful sensation of a million ants crawling along his skin caused goosebumps to form and hair bristle. _What is happening? What did he release?_ After several intolerable seconds 'John' lunged forward. No longer a man, or anything resembling one, he barreled towards the Jedi and Captain. Unprintable evil screamed in exultation, faintly audible to the souls who were to be devoured.

"Move!" Luke shoved Kirk aside and brought his lightsaber to an attack position. He planned to decapitate the soldier, to strike him down in one swoop.

In another second, 'John' would be atop the Jedi,

"John!" Cienna stepped out of the alcove and raced forward. Like a snake, 'John's' head snapped sideways, stopping in his tracks, inches from the humming energy of the saber.

Kirk jumped up and grabbed Luke's shoulder, calming and steadying the Rebel. 'John' now completely ignored the two men, not noticing or caring that the lightsaber brushed so close to his face. The mad soldier stood frozen, every unimaginable facet of being pushed him onward, to rip apart those who oppose him, those who lie to him. Yet, somewhere deep down, in the darkest chamber of his heart, a light flickered. Surrounding by blackness and pain, of memories detailing a million tortured battles and unforgettable agony. Like a million tons of rock, it pushed and flattened, crushed and destroyed. But the light would not be snuffed today. The last of 'John's' soul resisted.

 _Nooooo! Cienna would not want this!_

The flickering flame now burned hotter, brighter. In the frigid hell of 'John's' tortured existence, the unspeakable-undimensioned blasphemous _**things**_ withdrew.

A voice, unrecognizable as human croaked from the internals of the armor, organs utterly unholy and inhumane mashed and slopped. 'John' took a disjointed and awkward step, his entire body fighting against itself. Another strange noise, this time with a hint of something familiar, something human. Kirk tugged on Luke's arm and both men moved back, offering a path for Cienna. Only a few feet separated them now, and Kirk noticed the air changing, the strangeness receding into the nothingness in which it came.

"Get out! Out of my head!" 'John' ripped off his helmet and collapsed onto the ground. Black fluid spilled out of his mouth, a gurgled scream of agony followed. All his injuries instantly became relevant, the unbearable pain tearing at every nerve and fiber of flesh and bone. Cienna rushed over and bent down beside him.

She lifted his head and whispered softly into his ear.

"It will be ok, you saved us 'John,' we are going to get you help."

"I am... so sorry. So…" 'John' trailed off, overcome with pain and anguish.

Kirk's face remained stone cold, he exchanged a knowing look with Cienna, nodding slowly as he silently directed his men to move-out. She had done it. _John killed most of the boarding party, but she saved us from him. But what is John sorry about? What has he done?_

Just before losing consciousness, 'John's' eyes flickered, they were completely bloodshot, with broken blood vessels crisscrossing throughout. Both Luke and Kirk stepped forward, straining their ears to hear the next words muttered,

"I… I had too. I had to save you. Un… unlocked the first k...key." With the last of his words, 'John's' body went limp and he lay unconscious.

Cienna looked slowly towards the Captain, blood rushing out of her face. The terrible realization of what could come, or what had already crossed through hit her like a ton of bricks. Kirk directed some men to bring the soldier to sickbay before taking up Cienna's side and asking her about 'John's' statement.

"What does that mean? What he said? Explain?" He held her firmly by the shoulders, shaking her softly to snap her out of whatever trance she had fallen into. After a second she shook her head and looked up,

"James. There are only two keys, the Old Ones, or… whatever exists beyond the gate can partially come through. Not entirely, not completely, but their influence and footprint increases."

"Come? Come where? To this ship?"

"No… everywhere, they don't exist like we know it. Not like you can imagine it, like something else. They exist in all places at once. I don't know everything. Only what I learned from the Daleks and from a bit of the book." Kirk's face did not change, confusion still evident, but his eyes wandered, thinking, processing as Cienna continued her description. "The Necronomicon, the ancient book was never clear, even to the Dalek's. Some phrases, if translated correctly, mentioned the Earth would be pulled somewhere else, in others, the book says they would come here."

The 'couple' pushed apart when they realized Luke stood within earshot, listening to every word. To their surprise, the pilot with matted blonde hair who looked no older than twenty-five conveyed understanding far beyond his years. Looking almost through them, Luke knew now what had drawn him to the Milky Way.

"So then, these are the things I sensed."

Kirk turned and locked eyes with Luke. An indisputable alliance now existed between them. Not needing an agreement or negotiated dialogue, the two men knew they were in this together. Through the Force, Luke felt compelled to stay, to fight and risk it all to stop the Old Ones. _If we do not… even the Force ghosts will be no more, beyond anything I can imagine will be wiped clean..._

"Luke," said Kirk, interrupting the Jedi's concentration. "I want to introduce you to a friend of mine, he will link our minds and you can know everything that there is to know about us. But for now, we need to get out of here, I'm sure the Empire is reacting to their defeat."

Luke acknowledged with a nod and pressed down on his wrist communicator.

"Luke to Home One, keep an eye out for Imperial activity."

"Aye, Commander Skywalker. We won't have much time to spot them if they come out of hyperspace."

Thinking along the same lines, Kirk pressed the bridge communication button on a wall terminal,

"Kirk to bridge,"

To the Captain's relief, Spock answered,

"Aye, Captain?"

"Everything ok up there?"

"Yes. However, Chekov did not survive his injuries."

The Captain's eyes remained downcast, with a heavy heart he acknowledged. _I'm supposed to protect these men, they are my responsibility..._ After a second to gather his thoughts, he continued.

"Spock, do what you can to get navigation online. Major damage was spared because they wanted to take us alive. Set course for Earth, maximum warp."

Captain Kirk, Luke, and Cienna made their way through the horrific halls to the turbolift, Dr. McCoy was in desperate need of assistance in a sickbay overflowing with injured and dying officers. The trio walked briskly, with Luke enlightening Kirk and Cienna along the way. The Rebels journey to the Milky Way now becoming known.

"Luke. It is impossible for someone like Ro to have completed such a journey. The distances and times are not possible with our native technology. You mentioned she believed her words to be genuine." Kirk pressed the pause button and the turbolift came to a sudden halt. Facing the Jedi, the captain continued. "The Maquis, and no friends to freedom. They are treacherous, deceitful and cannot be trusted. We consider them a terrorist organization. You must accompany us to Earth, so we can reveal the Empire to the entire Alpha Quadrant and bring an end to their campaign."

"I am not sure that is going to halt their advance."

"I have a powerful friend working in your galaxy. If he is successful, if he achieves all the things he set out to do. When you return, the Empire will be no more."

Luke nodded along, but a spike of anxiety shot into his thoughts. _Vader. What does that mean for my father?_ Discussion continued around Ro's ideas of Romulan intervention and the savior of her people. As the captain questioned and commented, Luke found his attention split between Kirk's reassurances and Cienna's stunning beauty. Never before in all his years had he seen a woman so lovely, and without dwelling on her once again, never in his future would he meet someone such as she. This rang true not only for her looks but brains. Making the point, she addressed a few issues.

"It is possible that Ro used technology not native to this Galaxy to complete her journey. And if that were the case, someone knows about both the Imperial galaxy and ours. But that is only speculation." Cienna shared a concerned look with James, _The Dalek's._ "You say your navigational droids were unable to detect any faulty files on Ro's ship. Species exist here that have a way with computers. It is possible, but not certain, that Ro is not who she appears to be."

A few kilometers away, Han Solo sat quietly in the cockpit of the Millenium Falcon, his eyes carefully looking over sensor readings. Chewie grumbled a few tidbits of information as they sat and waited. C3P0 sat quietly beside Ro Laren, the desperate colonist who guided the Rebellion into the Milky Way. Over the last several months she had consulted the rebel leadership on the political turmoil within the Milky Way and developed a "meet and greet" plan with her Colonist people. The Rebel fleet coming out of hyperspace along the border of the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone was no fluke. Ro provided the Rebel fleet a transmission device to signal her colleagues upon their arrival, the interception and defeat of the Dominion puppet forces being a coincidence.

"Looks like we got company Chewie, about six hundred small craft coming at us." Han twisted his neck and directed the update towards Ro. "Must be your friends. Should be here in about ten minutes."

Ro closed her eyes and smiled, her genuine relief of the protracted conflict pouring out in waves. Almost crying, she thanked Han and wiped away a few tears before continuing.

"Thank you so much. Once we link-up with the Colonist, we will then continue to Romulus where we can coordinate our efforts against the Empire."

"If you say so." Han shrugged and continued to monitor the screens. He wanted the Rebellion to win, to defeat the Empire. The Colonist's future did not conjure up resolve within the smuggler, there were other things to worry about. Like Leia, alone and isolated in their old Galaxy.

"I must say, the probability of effectively engaging the Imperial, Dominion and Cardassian Navy's are one-thousand, two hundred and-"

"Shut it '3P0" said Han as he saw an incoming communicator signal from the Enterprise,

"Han," Luke's crackly voice came through the cramped cockpit. "We need to get out of here immediately. We think the Empire will be sending star destroyers. These people, this Federation needs us. I told R2 to set the X-Wing to follow you, I'm staying aboard. Tell the fleet to head to these coordinates." Han looked down at a series of X,Y,Z coordinates coming through his navigational system.

Ro nervously shifted in her seat, her expression of relief turning to concern.

"What's going on? Where are we going?" Han felt her bump into his chair, leaning forward and looking at the coordinates on the navigational computer screen. A soft audible whisper escaped Ro's lips. "No…"

"Buckle up, looks like we are headed to Earth. Home One, set your navigational tracker on the Falcon, I'll lead."

Ro did not move, she stood silent, her eyes wide with expression. Fear, anger, guilt, and worry, all pulsing and cycling through her mind. The Colonists needed help, and only through a Maquis-Romulan alliance did she wholeheartedly believe that possible.

Beliefs soon to be revealed as faulty. Not just upon the Rebellion but the poor messenger as well. Ro unknowingly had been tricked, twisted, and manipulated. Her mind rewritten, altered, adjusted to fit purposes still unknown. Technology she 'knew' to be hers was not. The tremendous journey she took, not taken. At least not in the way she had remembered it, not in the way she 'knew' to be true.

"No," Ro forcefully interjected, "we need to wait for the Colonist ships. I told Mon Mothma and Leia the Romulans were the key to defeating the Empire, they agreed! You know that Han."

Chewie dismissed her complaints with a half growl and Solo continued to punch in numbers, eagerly setting his hyperspace coordinates and linking his systems to all friendly ships. Realizing that the Rebel fleet would soon depart, Ro slowly backed away from the pilot chair and set her back against the wall.

C3P0 awkwardly twisted his head, following her slow retreat to the cockpit door.

"Look out!" Shouted the golden droid.

Han whirled out of his chair and like a gunslinger from the wild west, pulled his blaster and fired a single shot. The blaster bolt found its mark, Ro slumped to the floor, dead. Within her grip, a hidden weapon she had stowed away in a small cubby. Han stepped forward and picked it up, a little blaster, one he did not recognize.

"Chewie, what have we gotten ourselves into?"

Back on board the Enterprise, Luke received the chilling report from Han. Kirk stood within earshot and commented on the unraveling situation.

"She must have ties to either the Romulans or Colonists. I can't say why. But. She may have wanted your Rebellion here. To lure you in."

"We did not come here because of her story, we came because of what I felt through the Force. The danger."

Kirk's eyes narrowed, placing his hand on Luke's shoulder he smiled dimly, exploring the young man's face and eyes. Likewise, the young Jedi studied the Captain, Luke noticed Kirk's eyes appeared to go on forever, holding within vast reserves of knowledge and ability.

"Luke. Something tells me they did not count on your ability."

Minutes later the trio approached sickbay, bodies of moaning or unconscious officers lined the hallway leading up to the entrance. The ordinarily clean-kept carpet a tattered mess of blood and bodily fluid. In some horrific cases, a severed limb dangled by tendon fibers, barely attached to the body. Half-dead men reached upward to grab Cienna's hand, their last wish to touch an angel. She knelt down beside many and patted their sweaty foreheads, her touch soothing their pain if only for a moment.

"Nurse! Get this man to table six, fifteen CC of Quadripul… it also looks like the left arm just above the elbow joint needs to be amputated." Bones barely acknowledged the Captain, Cienna, and newcomer. Everywhere, bodies stacked against the walls, only the living were afforded gurney space. Doctor McCoy had survived the Enterprise assault, fighting furiously to defend the medical bay against the unwanted attackers. But, despite his and many medical staff's efforts, the stormtroopers and Jem'Hadar eventually breached the door.

"Bones!" Kirk rushed across the room, careful not to touch or disturb his friend while he scanned a patient for injuries.

"Jim! Cienna! My god, is it over? What in the damn blazes is going on?" Bones hardly noticed Luke, his forearms stained red from the five emergency operations just completed. "Who is that?" jabbing his thumb sideways while observing charts and graphs of a young ensign's failing heart.

"Long story, I'm… glad your alive Doc."

Unexpectedly the Doctor turned towards Jim, his eyes conveying a hint of sadness, something almost of regret.

"Many did not Jim. And I, just barely. Our friend… John, he came in here just as the stormtroopers broke through our defenses. It was just me, Nurse Chapel and a few others." Now Bones faltered, as if resetting his thoughts to continue. He licked his lips and tried to reflect on what he had seen. "He came through the door like a wild dog, and just... He tore them apart with his bare hands. Their weapons were useless…" Kirk nodded along, understanding. Cienna closed her eyes and winced, not at the terrible carnage but the pain 'John' must have been feeling. The Old Ones were deep and present within him.

Bones continued.

"But Jim. That isn't it. There was something else in here. I… I mean I think I…" All semblance of rational thought or clear description left the Doctor's face. He shook his head and looked back towards his patient, dazed and seemingly confused. "Something terrible Jim. Something I cannot explain." Placing his medical scanner down, McCoy faced Cienna. "Our friend John, well I suppose you know him more than all of us. And, I am no fool, we are at war after all. But this fell into a realm of madness. The stormtroopers begged and pleaded, I heard them screaming like terrified-" his voice almost gave way, "-like terrified children."

Cienna breathed slowly, her own emotions surfacing as she listened and imagined the sights and sounds of the sickbay not long ago.

"Leonard," her normally beautiful smile felt hollow, her sad eyes betraying her normally calm exterior. "That was not him. Not the man we know."

"Then what?" he spat hotly, picking up his medical device and re-scanning his patient. "Some part of him was here, some part of him fought and killed and… ate, and… god help me. Ingested some of them while alive. I saw in the darkness, some shape maybe part of him, maybe not. I don't know..."

"Bones." Kirk put his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his friend. "What can we do to help?"

Luke listened intently to the conversation taking place, but something gently tugged at his mind, like a small child pulling the sleeve of a parent. He turned his head towards the other room of sickbay, _John._ Kirk, Bones and Cienna all watched Luke walk towards the door threshold and decided to follow him. More bodies filled the adjacent room, along with scattered bits of Imperial armor. No semblance of a full body remained of the stormtroopers, just pools of blood and a black tar stickiness. On the far operating table lay 'John,' his life-signs stabilized and critical wounds closed by McCoy a minute earlier. His armor had been stripped off and lay discarded by his bedside. Luke took a deep breath and walked across the room, his newly acquired friends in tow.

"What do you see?" Asked Kirk, stopping beside Luke at the foot of the bed.

"See?" asked the confused McCoy. Kirk ignored him for now and continued to stare at Luke, trying to understand precisely what the young man could do, feel, and see. Extending his hand, Luke closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing himself to purge the anxiety and fear from his mind. Slowly he fell away from it all, the sound of the urgent care being delivered in the medical bay, the beeping and blooping machines and then finally his own conscious thoughts. Deep down into the Force he fell, far below the surface of reality and order. Through the Force he felt the interconnected beings and objects of the room, the table, the chair, Kirk… 'John.'

 _John… Show me your secrets…_

Deeper still, down into the betweenness, into the Force energy connecting all-things. Luke realized his subconscious orientation faced 'downward,' deep into the blackness. _Is there more? How deep does it go?_ Far beyond any mortal's mind to reach, came a stirring. _Something_ rose from the depths of infinity to greet the wandering and inquisitive spirit of the Jedi. And as he asked his question,

 _John… what is your destiny? What is your future?_

 **THEY** met him,

 **!WHATEVER WE WANT IT TO BE!**

Luke's connection into the Force snapped like a chain pulled too tight. Kirk lunged to catch him before he fell backward onto the floor.

"Easy. Easy now…" Kirk and Bones both helped the Jedi into a chair close by. Sweat poured from his head and he stuttered and blabbered before catching his breath.

"That's impossible." Luke was panting like an exhausted dog, but his thoughts held steady. "I felt something. This is going to sound crazy but. Something exists down there. Down where not even the Force has sway."

"Excuse me?" bafflement would be an understatement for the Doctor as he tried quickly to orient himself to Luke's description.

"The Force is between all things, but, something is even between that. Beyond my reach… it came at me."

Pulling on both the Captain and Doctor's arms, Luke rose out of his chair and walked over to 'John', still resting peacefully on the bed. Now the Jedi's eyes were glassy, watery with fear and apprehension.

"This man… what I felt in him… it must be destroyed."

"We know. We know all about it. He is… dealing with it." said Kirk, unsure of how to express the terrible reality facing everyone.

"So what the hell happened then Jim? What ripped through this ship?" asked Bones.

"He is wrestling with the Old Ones, they are attacking his mind. But did he crack?" The question, more rhetorical than pointed, fell flat. No one knew. Bodies of dead shipmates and enemies alike littered the decks, but the assault had failed because of him. This fact did not escape the four standing at the bedside.

After a minute of silence, Bones looking as if searching for each painful word, spoke.

"Jim. Every man has a breaking point... 'John' may have reached his." Wiping away some moisture on his lips, Doc continued. His soul tearing at itself as he pushed the issue, suggesting what everyone already knew but dared not admit. "There is conflict in every human heart, between good and evil… and good does not always triumph."

The statement hung in the air, potent and unanswerable. Kirk stared at Bones, unwavering, his mind working strategy and consequence. _Can we kill him, if we had too? Can he die?_ Kirk looked down at 'John', he appeared so helpless, asleep and unprotected. _We could end this now. The Old Ones seem to have gone. Is he vulnerable?_ _And if we tried and failed, what then? Will he become our enemy? Surely._

"Bones. Did his injuries heal themselves? What happened when you brought him in and took off the armor?" As Kirk asked, Cienna gave him a critical gaze, the train of thought her lover trod down felt dangerous, a path unknown.

"No Jim, we saved him. He was almost dead… should have been dead I mean. He's stable now, but who knows. He's not human, he can't be, I just can't tell you why."

The Captain's face looked as hard as a stone, _this could be it. A chance to stop the Old Ones in their tracks. To ruin the Dalek plan and save us all from total annihilation._ Without realizing it, Kirk's hand slowly slid towards a phaser attached to his hip. An overwhelming urge to end the threat gnawed at him, pushing against his morality and ethical boundaries. No external entity or telepathic control interfered at this moment. Only a battle of wits, of his own wits. McCoy noticed his friends hand movement, his eyes expanding to the size of saucers as he realized the next move.

"Jim. If we do this. If we kill him. Can we live with that?"

No one answered. Just the slow unlatching of the phaser case, and sliding sound of the phaser while it exited the holster. _Heaven forgive me. John… I am… sorry._ Sorrow, guilt, an unbelievable weight and despair filled Kirk's heart. The phaser was now entirely out of the holster, and with a thumb gesture, dialed to maximum power.

"Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny… consume you it will." Whispered Luke, reflecting on what Yoda once told him. The recollection not directed at anyone in particular, more to mark a moment of no return.

Kirk held the phaser forward and aimed it at 'John', the others backing away slowly, the surreal situation taking a toll on all their hearts.

Hesitation. Kirk's hand wavered. _What did Luke just say?_ Taking a deep breath, he raised his chin, preparing to fire the most crucial shot in the history of the galaxy.

"No." Kirk shoved his phaser back into its holster and turned towards Bones. "Get him back on his feet."

McCoy, overcome with relief grinned from ear to ear,

"You got it Jim."

Turning now, Kirk pointed at both Luke and Cienna,

"We have a war to win," then marched forward and out of sickbay. Luke and Cienna shared a look of surprise and relief then quickly followed suit. Determination now replaced despair, resolve to replace reluctance. "Kirk to bridge,"

"Bridge,"

"Send word to Starfleet Command, tell them I want a meeting with all the senior leaders of the Federation. Tell them…" Kirk now turned back towards Luke, still dressed in his flight suit, helmet in hand. "...tell them, there is a new hope."

Cienna smiled, Luke smiled, and just as the Captain returned theirs, he grabbed the wall in dizzying surprise. Cienna rushed forward but Kirk raised his hand in a gesture of calm. His eyes darted back and forth, and a small smile crept along his mouth. Like a piece of technology receiving an 'update' Kirk heard, saw but more importantly understood precisely the message.

"Our powerful friend is back in this Galaxy, he'll be here in a few hours."

"A friend?" asked the bewildered Jedi,

"A Lensman"


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

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 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Tokyo, Earth**

Sloan sat quietly in his oversized leather chair, fixated on the conference screen attached to the opposite wall. On it, the President, Federation Council, and many but not all Fleet Admirals. An emergency meeting had been ordered after the latest news out of Bajor.

"What we know so far," read Admiral Paris from his notes, " Is a massive Dominion fleet exited the wormhole a little over an hour ago. All communication from Bajor ceased when they commenced orbital bombardment. DS9 was destroyed in the opening volley."

President Jaresh-Inyo leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Even from the conference monitor, Sloan could see the stress building. But there existed no reprieve from it, no escape. The noose tightened, decisions needed to be made.

"I am ordering all Starfleet forces to head-off this attack and to launch emergency diplomatic negotiations with the Dominion. All ships, transports, and merchant vessels are to be commandeered immediately. Outlying worlds not in immediate danger will have their defenses reduced and-"

An exasperated gasp, followed by an angry fist smashing down on the far side of the enormous conference table. A blue-skinned Andorian stood tall, his glaring eyes scanning each of the other one-hundred and forty-nine Council Members.

"As I have been saying to my people. You are abandoning us. You worked us like dogs for two-hundred years, building your ships, weapons, our people built half the Starfleet Navy! Not any longer. Andoria withdraws from the Federation." Mouths dropped, eyes widened, a few audible gasps heard. Reaching into his robe, the Andorian Council member tossed the planetary vote across the table, the tablet coming to a stop near the fingers of President Jaresh-Inyo.

The President looked down and picked up the tablet. Andoria had called an emergency vote, with fifty-five percent in favor of separation.

"Council Member Ubino. I know you are new to this chamber due to your predecessor's unfortunate murder in your industrial city of Val-Klaxin. But if he were still here, he would vehemently oppose. Your vote was a majority, but just barely. My orders only reduce defenses around worlds not immediately in danger."

Ubino began to pull off tags and pins associated with the Federation, Starfleet, and the collective union.

"Do you know why my predecessor was killed?" Asked the angry Andorian. His anti-like antenna twitching in anger.

Silence. Ubino continued.

"The mob was not comprised of hooligans or mongrels. They were the workers of the mines, plants, and assembly facilities. They were the disenchanted, disheartened… the desperate! I represent them, the workers, the down-and-out. All of them elected me to push back against your continuous amalgamation of defenses around Earth and a few other worlds. Ever since this war started, our industrial centers have operated night and day, endless shifts and labor."

Council Member Peron of Vulcan raised a hand to comment, Ubino glanced over and offered a gesture to speak,

"I find it highly illogical for your planet to pursue this course of action. Are you certain your citizens were given all the facts on this matter?"

"Of course, fully informed." The last pin dropped onto the table and Ubino looked over the end of his nose, down onto the group of Members he felt were traitors to their own kind. Just before turning to leave, Peron asked another question; one many were undoubtedly thinking.

"How do you plan on defending yourselves? With your withdrawal from the Federation, of which there are many more steps than this vote, you will be removed from our military blanket of security."

"I can say now that the steps in section 4 of the charter are unnecessary. Andoria is finished with the Federation. Secondly, and this is for the rest of the room, to each of you." Ubino pointed at each representative. More than passion; obsession drove the Andorian Council-elect to defend his people's interests. "Starfleet's Navy grows weaker, we have less than five-hundred ships left, but one-hundred and fifty worlds. Travel time is months in some cases, do you think the navy will be taken so far from the core worlds? Even a small fleet sent into the outer regions would be completely cut-off from the fight. We have never faced this...this…" Ubino searched for the word. "Pincer. Yes, this is a pincer movement. We can't defend so many planets on multiple fronts. Andoria possesses thousands of merchant ships, ore-haulers and other industrial designs. They are our defense, they will not be commandeered by you or anyone else. All will be armed, and staffed with people like myself, willing and able to do what it takes. I'd rather have to defend one planet with a thousand civilian ships than your alternative. Think it over. Especially you Anora. Do you really think the Federation is going to help you? Goodbye."

Council Member Anora, representative of the Betazed people felt the knot in her stomach grow and twist. Grim reality and hopelessness crawled and festered in the minds of every Betazoid.

Sloan, still sitting in his seat in Tokyo, watching by way of conference, picked at his lip. _We are cracking, splitting at the seems. Not completely unexpected. The Dominion is pushing harder than we could have ever imagined._ Through the screen, Sloan watched pandemonium breakout. Council-elect's from outlying regions pushed hard at the President to help quell their understandable concern. In the minds of each, not so hidden behind their shifting eyes, the skepticism around Starfleet naval protection.

Council Member Anora stood,

"Mr. President, my people have been ruthlessly assassinated. We need assurances that Starfleet is going to protect us. There is a Dominion fleet heading towards our planet. We are afraid to flee due to what has happened. We lost thousands of citizens in a flash attack, our planet is our only safety."

A lesser-known Admiral answered,

"We are assembling the 8th fleet as well as other vessels in the immediate area. In the meantime, we have advised your people to use all necessary merchant vessels to help in defense of your planet."

Anora eyed the admiralty, her telepathic mind scanning each of their thoughts and feelings. Typically, only consented telepathic readings of minds occurred, but she was desperate, her people were desperate. She probed surface deep, not at a Lensman level, but enough to see images and concerns others could not.

"You people are not sure! The 8th Fleet is heavily damaged from the engagement in the Demilitarized Zone. What is Captain Kirk's assessment? We received his emergency message to assemble the governing members to Earth."

President Jaresh-Inyo cleared his throat; he needed to walk a fine line between respect for a legend and his current authority,

"Captain Kirk is currently on route to Earth. The Enterprise is defenseless, no weapons, no shields, no sensors. They took a beating and will take weeks to restore their systems. The Dominion forces will reach your world the day after tomorrow. Kirk hopes our plan will work, but it is my decision. He also tells us that he is going to change the war."

Anora held a long stare with the President, she knew he was unsure as well.

"Giselle," started the Vulcan member. "If a sizeable enemy fleet had not exited the Bajoran wormhole, it is possible we may have staged a more practical defense of Betazed. It would be illogical to expose our entire territory to enemy attack to save one planet." The heartless and cold explanation drove a dagger into Anora's already broken heart. She fell back into her seat and remained quiet. In the room she could sense and read everyone's thoughts, no one quite knew what to do.

"Well… at least Picard convinced the Cardassians to enter a peace treaty. Thank god for him," mentioned a member.

Admiral Ross, fleet commander of DS9 as well as surrounding sectors cleared his throat.

"We do not know how many ships survived the blockade, the minefield was designed to stop hundreds, if not thousands of ships. But, Bajor has gone black, so certainly a sizeable group remains. DS9 fell in the opening volley as the mines were detonating, it would have taken hundreds of ships to do that. As for Bajor, the last signal we received was a call for help."

"Surely the Dominion didn't kill everyone on the planet, that would be barbaric, impossible," shot a Council member.

Ross adjusted his collar and continued his analysis.

"Furthermore, with your permission Mr. President we will order our ships within Klingon space to withdraw immediately."

"Bill," the President calling Admiral Ross by his first name, "our ships are helping the Klingons protect their own inner territory, are they not?"

"Yes Mr. President. We suspect the Klingon lines will collapse almost immediately."

President Jaresh-Inyo shook his head slowly, his finger tracing the ridges of his brow.

"So then. We save ourselves and let the Klingons fall. Is that what this has come too? My god how? How could it have come to this?" No one said a word. Sensing this, the President looked onto the large monitor and tried to dig for more options.

"Director Sloan, you have been quiet through all this, do you have anything to say?"

"We have brought in the last of the captured perpetrators across Federation space. Those who killed the Betazoids. We are going to torture them." Uncomfortable shifting and clearing of throats filled the vacuum. It had always been against Federation policy to torture, but now everything had twisted, with lines of morality and right and wrong shifting beneath their feet. "We do not know yet if a link exists between the killing of our citizens and the Dominion evasion but we will soon. I suspect it is. I believe Mr. Data does as well. All prisoners are now here with me in Tokyo; we are set to begin immediately. If anything comes of the questioning, I will inform. Lastly, and you will have to forgive me for being so bold. In my opinion, the smaller the territory, the greater the chance of defending it."

More gasps, and a rare outburst of anger directed towards the Intelligence Director, but the Admirals remained silent. They knew deep down that all one-hundred and fifty planets could not be protected now that a new fleet emerged hundreds of lightyears from the primary engagement areas thus far. The Klingons, despite their bluster are only holding on by a thread, and if support were withdrawn, their empire would undoubtedly fall. A decision needed to be made.

Sloan more than anything wanted the Federation to survive, and would do anything for it to do so. He offered a solemn promise to the quickly deteriorating group of elected officials.

"The Klingons will never surrender, even though we now have a cease-fire agreement with the Cardassians, none such exists with the Klingons. The Dominion and Cardassians are double-teaming them, and our ships are caught in a troublesome position within their territory, unable to engage half the battle groups. Furthermore, the Klingons as you know have been experimenting using an ancient powder. Dr. Bashir, who was aboard DS9 when it was destroyed completed significant research for my department. This powder seems to mutate cells at the molecular level, turning them into a super-cell which then continues to spread. The dust overtakes and rewrites DNA, changes the cell's composition, it moves… to use an analogy, it washes over cells and bodies like a Flood. The Klingons plan on disbursing this across their entire population base in the hopes of creating super warriors. In small groups this has been successful, but we do not know how it will affect a world as a whole. They would only do this if all seemed lost. They may even send kamikaze attacks to Cardassia with this bio-agent.

Admiral Paris pressed a few buttons and the secure doors of the chamber opened. Commander Data, brought to Earth to plug-in to the 'system' of all interconnected networks briskly entered. For a week, Data scanned, analyzed, debugged, filtered, and sorted information. His task to shed some light on this war.

"Commander Data, you are current on all matters related to this war?" asked the President,

"Yes, I am fully aware of all circumstance."

"Should we withdraw our ships from Klingon territory?"

Data's head tilted in trademark fashion, the question allowed for a logical answer, but as the android knew all too well, biological species of any sort were rarely logical.

"It is difficult for me to recommend any course of action without taking into consideration-"

"Just the numbers Mr. Data," interrupted Ross.

"If I am to only use projected lives lost, the lives of Federation citizens, then it is logical to move the entire Federation fleet into our core territory." Data did not smile, his green-yellowish eyes moving from one face to another, searching for possible backlash or disagreement. His positronic brain knew full well the implications he suggested.

"You're only a machine!" shouted a Council-elect, another followed suit and now a shouting match broke-out in the chamber.

"You can't withdraw the Navy to just the core worlds! That is suicide for us!" shouted a Rigilian, whose world was furthest from Earth, the trip at maximum warp taking more than three months.

"Mr. President, may I continue?" Data received a nod as soon as the shouting subsided. "I have analyzed millions of log entries, charts, graphs, sensor sweeps, and personnel files. With the emergence of the new Dominion fleet, our territory is now under attack from two sides. I believe the best course of action is to recall all ships from Klingon territory and rebuild our wormhole defenses. We do not know how many more ships are going to come through, and now that our minefield has been destroyed, the door is open. Further, and of equal concern, is a concerted, well organized clandestine effort to destabilize our population base and governments."

"The Dominion…?" The President asking and commenting simultaneously.

Data's hesitant expression and rapidly blinking eyes conveyed apprehension, knowing full well his new statement would be incomplete, and perhaps bringing more unknowns.

"Mr. President. I am unable to verify the Dominion are solely responsible. I have traced thousands of coded signals across our territory, some of which were sent in the direction of the Colonist worlds inside the Demilitarized Zone. The Colonists are at war with the Dominion; I see no reason why they would willingly inflict harm upon themselves. Inaccurate information is spreading from Federation world to Federation world, shared among friends and relatives. To use an analogy, like a brushfire. I have also observed in our territory and within the Cardassian Union, entire population centers staging protests and rioting. I have also reviewed many private logs, mainly governing-"

"Wait! Wait wait wait." An angry Kazarite Council Member placed his hands on either side of his head, silencing the room. "Are you telling me Mr. Data, that you have been going through personal log files of governing officials?" Even Vulcan member Peron raised an eyebrow at this revelation. Data blinked, he knew then that they had not been informed by the President's inner circle or Intelligence Director Sloan. Before the question could be deferred towards the President or Sloan, pandemonium broke loose within the chamber.

The brooding Kazarite representative leaped to his feet and pointed directly at Jaresh-Inyo

"This is unbelievable, you have overstepped your grounds. You cannot scan private logs of elected officials. "

Jaresh-Inyo opened his mouth to defend himself but stopped as the Kararite representative tossed his Federation pin across the table.

"You people make me sick, all of you. Don't you see what is happening? We can't stop the wormhole flow of ships because to do that; we'd have to commit everything to it. Including pulling our ships out of Klingon territory. Once the Klingon's collapse, its over. Sure the Cardassians may not attack us now, but the Dominion is building shipyards around Cardassia. We are outmatched. Karazite will not be party to this."

"What on Earth are you saying?" Apprehension evident in the voice of the President.

"I'm saying, its over. We will make our own future, Andoria and Karazite."

Out of place, but hardly reprimanded, Admiral Ross shot out of his chair and screamed at the representative.

"You have Dilithium mines we need! You cannot just leave, our ships need the crystal to power the warp cores! Sloan, how are those new weapons coming along?" asked the furious Admiral.

"We have a working prototype, thanks to the fully intact probe diagrams we received from the Enterprise. We think we can stop the probes before they enter real space. It's almost beyond a shadow of a doubt there is a connection to the Dominion. Truthfully we can't find the connection but that's another issue. Regarding our war against the Dominion, subspace weapon testing is ongoing."

"How ongoing?"

"We are going to test a subspace torpedo next month."

More shouts and anger swelled, by the Admiralties calculations, the large fleet from the wormhole would reach Earth by then. Sloan wrongly felt that subspace weapons testing continued on secure site Cherno 44 in Wyoming. Unbeknownst to him, this location only processed Xyit Compound 823, the super substance for the Dalek superweapon. Work continued round the clock inside a mountain. The Dalek's expertly created a false narrative within the mind of the intelligence director. His fellow Section 31 comrades worked there, all helping create a compound they believed necessary for subspace weapons. Sloan glanced at the time readout for his 'subspace' compound, sixty-six percent. _Excellent, we may get this off the ground before that Dominion fleet arrives._ Subspace weapons had been banned by an Alpha Quadrant treaty, deemed too dangerous and volatile for procurement. Now, it was all Sloan and the Federation Security Council could hope for, and yet the irony cannot be overlooked. For when the Dominion fleet arrives, only the Dalek weapon would be at full readiness, and the Federation left with nothing.

After more back and forth between the President's inner circle, the admirals and Council Members, the meeting broke. More than ever the Federation found itself divided, many smaller worlds whose resources and leverage waned in times of war found themselves at odds with military policy. As they rushed out of the room to their private offices, great doubt existed within them. Are we better off on our own? Are we better off with the Andorians and Kazisians?

Sloan switched off the conference monitor. Moving quickly, he crossed into the next section of the secure facility, eventually stopping at the entrance to a long hallway. On either side, dozens of small holding areas, each with a humming blue force-field keeping the prisoners at bay. Mcgreggor, his old confidant stood two-hundred feet away at the other end, waiting with a datapad. Looking at each miserable resident gave Sloan some hope, _if they were depressed enough, beaten enough,_ _they may talk. No. They will talk. They will spill their guts and give me their secrets. And if not, Anora may help if she does not return to Betazed._

Sloan walked slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, stopping for a moment at each brig. His current pause came at Cell 22, Shunor; the feline currency trader caught up in the bar-fight aboard DS9 months ago, now lay on the floor. Transferred from a distant penal colony to Tokyo, Section 31 suspected her of racketeering with known smugglers and organizing the movement of materials into Romulan space. Months of torture up to this point revealed no substantial leads, but Sloan now felt nothing could be left on the table. She lay still, her malnourished body slowly rising and falling with each breath. Long faded was her radiant spunk, only a shell of torment remained.

"Once we finish with these murders, we will come back to you. I think we have asked the wrong questions in the past. I do not think you know much of who the Founders are, but I do think you may know where the Colonists are getting their weapons." The subconscious suspicion existing within Sloan was the result of adjustments by the Dalek micro-robots. The Supreme Dalek very much wanted to know where the Colonists procured or purchased superatomic warheads. Sloan, the forever puppet, did not realize _why_ he asked, the mind-robots painting a perfect cover. _If we could capture them, or produce our own, we may head off a Dominion invasion._ The actual reason lay in the inability for current Federation or Colonist tech to create such weapons. Something or someone was helping, and the Dalek's wanted to know who.

Sloan marched onward down the hallway, he stopped again, this time for no apparent reason but to declare his intention.

"Attention all prisoners. My name is Luther Sloan, Director of Starfleet Intelligence. You have been brought here because each of you were involved in the targeted assassinations of Betazoid's across our territory. There are about ninety of you, but thousands of my Federation citizens perished, which means many escaped. But, we are prepared to make a deal. The first of you to reveal the 'why' will be set free. A clean slate, we will even provide transport to wherever you want to go. The rest will be sent to a penal colony where you will rot for eternity. The choice is yours. Oh, one more thing. One of you, or your friends, almost killed me by accident. Deanna Troi aboard DS9 was your target, but the blast got me as well. Whoever reveals the assassin for this crime will also go free."

The Director started off towards his smiling friend Mcgregor when he jumped. The following act came so sudden, so unexpected that for a moment Sloan scarcely believed it real. A glowing and buzzing red lightsaber burst from Mcgregor's chest; his eyes unable to process the terror and pain. With the shove of a black glove, Mcgreggor keeled forward onto the ground, dead. In his place stood Darth Maul, surrounded by darkness, looking ominous and equally terrifying.

"Wha… What?!" Incredulous, Sloan reached for his phaser and fired. The beam lunged outward, striking the moving and twirling lightsaber as it weaved and bobbed to keep the phaser beam blocked. Sloan back peddled, too stunned to speak or process the seemingly impossible infiltration of his secure base. He looked down and adjusted his phaser for 'wide-beam,' _he won't block that._ A sudden cry of pain and a security guard fell from an overlooking catwalk, clutching his throat as he fell.

Dropping to one knee, Sloan raised his phaser at the distracted Maul and pressed the firing button. Impossibly, Maul glanced over and ripped the weapon from his hand just as his thumb touched the button. _What?!_ Shocked, Sloan turned tail to run for the armory but quickly collapsed, his neck convulsed, the Force squeezing the air from his lungs.

With the last of Sloan's oxygen exhausted, his arms and legs spasmed and his vision faded to black. Maul released his grip and began to look around for any security threats. Outclassed entirely, the remnants of Starfleet security quickly fell to his blade, their phasers routinely absorbed by the double-lightsaber.

Boba Fett, guarding the rear, promptly dispatched two security officers before starting his accounting. Methodically, the bounty hunter walked the length of holding cells; cross-checking each against a list obtained from Thrawn's vast network of intercepted messages and decrypted files. Before the mission could be called a success, all captured bounty hunters, all loose ends must be present.

"Got her!" he shouted back over his shoulder. Maul quickly closed the distance and stared into the cell. Shunor, no longer laying lifeless, stood against the far wall, her eyes wide and her claws out. Maul held his lightsaber to the force-field and it sparked and strained against the blade. Boba cautiously stepped back and raised his weapon, routinely thumbing the lever from 'kill' to 'stun'. Like a balloon, the field 'popped' and Shunor sprang forward like a cat. Maul, 'feeling' this ahead of time, raised his hand and Force caught her in mid-air. She floated helplessly, desperately clutching her neck to try and let air down into her gasping lungs. A sick smile formed on the tattooed face of the Sith. The more pain he caused and suffrage laid, his well-deserved sense superiority flourished.

Maul squeezed, ribs cracked and the little air in Shunor's lungs dribbled out in a measly scream. The Sith had been savagely attacked on the Romulan moon, he felt embarrassed, ashamed. Thrawn's idea to capture her seemed like a good idea, _even for one so pathetic as non-Force-user._ Pieces, not entire pictures of truth were coming together to link Shunor to the pirate infancy in the Gamma Quadrant, but Thrawn and his army of analysts could not be sure. No one could be sure.

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM!

Shunor hit the cold walls of the brig hard, her lungs empty and bones broken, she rattled around until finally coming to a stop on the floor. _Soon she will feel the full power of the dark side._ Effortlessly, Maul levitated her into the corridor and down towards their predetermined transport location.

Boba's boot missed Sloan's head by an inch as the bounty hunter ran along the cells, placing explosives every few feet. A prisoner, recognizing the famous tracker called out,

"Boba! Boba! You son of a bitch! What are you doing?" Skidding to a halt, Fett backed up and looked into the cell, he recognized the prisoner, but he did not recall his name.

"I'm getting paid," he said flatly, then moved off and continued his mission.

Now more prisoners were yelling and screaming, hopeful to be rescued, others accepted their fate and screamed profanities like a sailor. In either case, entirely ignored by the Sith who smiled at their approaching deaths. Passing the downed Intelligence Director, Maul 'felt' something odd surrounding Sloan, but he could not pinpoint it.

Within the brain of the Dalek-puppet, the super machines moved quickly, breaking their neuron attachments to move towards the heart. This emergency process began upon his death a minute ago. Surrounding Sloan's dead heart, they prepared to send an energy surge to restart it.

Zap!

Sloan gasped and floundered, his brain misfiring as he spasmed violently on the ground. The machines were successful, but as Sloan's vision restored and he settled down, he saw a hooded figure standing over him. Maul looked at him curiously, surprised he had been somehow resuscitated.

Now a preprogrammed survival mechanism took over, a deep and hidden psychological Dalek protocol. At lightning speed, Sloan raised his right hand and tapped the communicator on his chest, shouting,

"Echo-four-" Sloan never finished. His body now lay in two pieces, perfectly cut along the waistline by Maul's ignited blade. The Sith Lord eyed the dead Director for a moment, then stepping on his chest, moved forward with Boba Fett in tow.

"Are the charges set?" Asked Maul.

"Good to go."

Boba Fett tapped a few commands into his arm-pad and all at once the explosives armed, the last cries of helpless inmates bombarding his ears as the fifty or more explosives beeped in harmony.

"Forty-seconds,"

Maul nodded in acknowledgment, and then both men and their prisoner shimmered away.

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Captured prisoners now desperately threw themselves against the charged force fields, screaming and clawing at the walls. Others sat quietly, at peace, knowing this was the end of their long and sinful lives.

Beep…

Beep…

Beep...

5...4...3..

Sloan's upper half materialized away, transported from Tokyo to Starfleet Medical Center in San Francisco. His emergency cry for help had worked, now his survival lay in the hands of human doctors, the Dalek's unable to render aid.

2...1..

The entire facility and all within it vaporized in a flash of blinding light.

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dalek Secret Facility**

The Supreme Dalek overlooked the readouts from his Federation hacking apparatus, he was not pleased with Sloan's fate.

"Our slave may not survive, huuuuuman medical technology is inferior." The Supreme Dalek swiveled it's eyestock to look at another few items. "Did our embedded code infiltrate the positronic brain of the Android while it scanned through the Federation systems?"

"Affirmative."

"Status of Metron attack probes?"

"Our Beta Quadrant facility has been destroyed. Sixty-six stealth relays have also been detected and eliminated" reported a Dalek.

Over the last week, the Metron effort to detect and eliminate Dalek technology throughout the galaxy continued, small and medium-sized facilities now lay in ruins.

"Link battle computer to Borg fleet. Set instructions to exterminate the Metron home system. Only enhanced Borg technology is to be used. We C-A-N-N-O-T reveal our true pppooooowweerrrr!"

The Battle Computer chirped to life, its answer a perfect imitation of deliberate Dalek speech patterns.

"The Metron's possess advanced technology, probability of success is fifty-seven point four percent. Borg link initiated, Collective overwritten." A moment later, "Cloak engaged. Cubes entering ultra-transwarp. Time to target, six hours."


	26. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Balance of Power

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant**

Morphed and elongated stars appeared as sheets of white light as forty Borg Cubes raced towards their target. Traveling far faster than any Borg cube had ever gone, they moved quickly and invisibly towards the Metron home planet. Their upgraded technology only morsels of greater Dalek potential. The Collective, believing these actions a logical choice of its own free will, sought to rid the galaxy of the Metron menace.

-Event Log

-Time to Target : 00:00:30 seconds

-Adjust shield configuration for frontal dampening field

-Prime High-Yield warheads

-Set ship reactors to overcharge

-Self-Preservation Priority 0%

-Assimilation Priority 0%

-Target Destruction Priority 100%

-Countdown to target: Begin

29…

28…

27…

-Detecting subspace probes

-Prepare to engage

Beneath the veil of ordinary space lay subspace, another realm of reality where the Metron probes waited. Their advanced sensors tracking the attack force as it moved closer.

26…

25…

24…

The Metron's despite their long history and advanced technology existed as isolationists, their combat prowess never tested, their tactics never tried. Now within the transwarp stream, chaotic energy sparked and cracked below the cubes. A white ball of energy fought to emerge, attempting to pull itself through from subspace into transwarp, a feat never tried.

23…

22…

21…

White strands of energy danced along the transwarp stream as a 10 km probe birthed from below; its surface a solid white sheet of glimmering power. With a violent discharge, a blinding light connected with the closest Cube. A colossal chunk atomized into nothingness, the rest scattering into oblivion within the transwarp stream, like sand scattering in a fast moving stream.

-Engaging Metron Probe

-Adapt weaponry for transwarp environment

-Isolate Metron shell frequency

Green absorption beams fired from the Borg Cubes in unison, their goal to dissolve the energy barrier surrounding the mechanical probe within. Splashes of green absorption discharges washed over the perfect sphere, it's screen faltering but only for a second. Now a second probe emerged into transwarp, destroying three cubes in a single shot.

-Rotate shield harmonics

-Switch to scatter beam

-Adapt array to frequency 1332.33 Mhz

20…

19…  
18…

-Metron frequency isolated

Firing together, modified beams hit the first probe at a precise coordinate, only this time the energy sheath protecting the Metron craft disappeared. For the first time in Metron history, their superior technology failed and the probe promptly lost power. Like a sinking ship of the 21st century, the probe slowly 'sunk' into the transwarp barrier, eventually disappearing from view.

17…

16…

15…

Two more Cubes violently exploded, their shields unable to repel the might of the Metron energy beam originating from the second probe. In addition to beams, the probe activated its dampening field, the same that held Kirk's Enterprise and Gorn vessel a hundred years earlier. But a hundred years ago, the Metron were not facing a Dalek Battle Computer.

14…

13…

12…

Realizing Borg adaption speeds to be inferior, the Battle Computer in unison with the Supreme Dalek switched tactics. Commands carefully uploaded into the Collective triggered an instant response; three cubes rushed forward and smacked into the energy barrier surrounding the Metron probe. Upgraded cube reactors detonated and in a blinding flash, the transwarp conduit disappeared with the surviving cubes thrown into real space. Only six escaped, but the probe had not.

11…

10…

9…

-Approaching outer Metron world

-Launch salvo

-Continue to primary target

Closing at breakneck speed, the cubes launched six energy torpedoes towards a cloaked planetoid on the outskirts of the Metron system. Metron energy dampeners powerful enough to stop a thousand Federation ships throbbed at maximum output, but the Dalek's had adapted, their torpedoes were immune. Warheads of unknown substance and yield smacked into the invisible outer planet. The cubes now millions of kilometers ahead did not pause for theatricality, instead pushing and grinding forward through the ever-increasing dampening field towards their primary target.

8…

7…

6…

-Detecting sixteen cloaked facilities

-target and fire.

More torpedoes launched, the cubes like before sped onward. In the distant rear, now billions of kilometers behind, the first world attacked twisted and fractured. A swirling vortex of matter and antimatter spun into a whirlpool on the surface, material turned to liquid and soon to gas. The surface spun and churned into a siphoning chasm, thousands of miles deep and hundreds wide. The planetoid imploded, taking with it a million screaming Metrons.

5…

4…

3…

Now the second batch of torpedoes struck their sixteen targets, lighting up the solar system like mini-novas, the cloaked energy relays so crucial to the Metron's flashed into trillions of particles before their eyes.

-Target 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th planets

-Launching long-range torpedoes

-Detecting energy spike on Metron Home World

-Launching warheads at primary target

-Set Cube cores for self-destruction

-Ready Nano-Bombs

Torpedos lashed out in all directions, with travel times in the minutes the doomed Metron targets could only watch helplessly as death closed in upon them. At the center of the galaxy, the Supreme Dalek worked harmoniously with the battle computer, their experience against the Time Lords becoming evident. No ordinary Borg attack would ever succeed against the Metron's, in any given circumstance save this one. But the fight was not over, and as the Supreme Dalek identified the massive energy spike from the Metron Home World it knew time was almost up.

-launch remaining warheads at primary target

As the final torpedoes streaked forward, six Metron Probes emerged into real space and collided with the missiles. Brilliant blues and purples filled the color spectrum, energies and frequencies radiated, cosmic ether ripped and matter superheated. The probes were gone, but so too was the cube's missiles. The overwhelming energy spike on the Metron Home Planet reached an unprecedented level and an energy discharge six miles across wiped five of the six remaining cubes from the face of existence. One remained.

Another super-discharge of energy rocketed past the evading Borg cube as it primed its nano-bomb

2…

1…

-Deton...

-Signal lost-

The command never finished, the last remaining cube exploded only a thousand kilometers from the Metron atmosphere, the nano-bomb designed to spread a biomechanical plague atomized before contact. Concerning galactic distances, the bomb missed its target by a 'hair'.

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dalek Secret Facility**

In the middle of the Galaxy the Supreme Dalek stood brooding in anger, but its options were limited. Full-scale war could not begin until the Q perished, for if the Q discovered the full potential of the Dalek war machine, they would surely be killed.

"The attack has failed!" shouted the Supreme Dalek

"Five out of seven planets destroyed, all cloaked facilities destroyed. Eight probes destroyed," commented another.

"Did the Nano-Bomb reach the planet's atmosphere?"

"Unlikely Supreme Dalek," came the Battle Computer.

A human slave scampered forward and gave praise,

"Master, you have done so well. With only forty ships you have managed to destroy a huge chunk of the Metron Empire, and they were not even Dalek ships, just slave ships! You could not have hoped to do-"

"We cannot build our own fleet, we risk revealing our potential." Changing subjects, "Is the abomination awake?"

"Yes. Yes, master, it is awake."

The Supreme Dalek flanked by several others floated into the dripping filth ridden room of the hanging blob of brain and flesh. Chains rattled, and liquid dripped as the spasmodic glob detected their arrival.

"Our attack has failed. We are vulnerable."

Nothing.

"Abomination! Respond."

Nothing.

Drip…

Drip…

Drip…

Then, a partial head stirred on the surface, its face half eaten by another, its eyes long ripped from their sockets.

"If we do not survive, the final sequence will not be initiated. We are your Dalek master's, we are your only hope. Obey!" shrieked the Supreme.

Nothing.

Drip…

Drip…

Drip…

 **Time is nothing to us! If it is not you, another, if not another, another. We are eternal.**

"The psychic super-weapon will be assembled soon. Do not threaten us! We are in C-O-N-T-R-O-LLLLLLLL!"

 **The soldier waits, we wait. All is on you.**

"We will be ready soon, standby for our orders."

Nothing.

"Acknowledge!"

Drip…

Drip…

Drip…

Nothing.

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise**

The meeting of Captain Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Cienna and Kimball Kinnison could be described as hugs, handshakes, laughs and elation. Scotty who recovered from his wound joined them for dinner as they ate, drank, and talked. Ideas, strategies, and experiences all shared among themselves with Kinnison bringing them each up to speed with his mission in the Imperial Galaxy as well as details surrounding Boskone. Exact details for each counter strategy would come later; only a few items needed immediate attention. The halting of the Imperial invasion so the Dalek could be prioritized and the unbelievable tales of 'John' the marine.

After hours of discussion and social bonding, Kinnison joined Captain Kirk in sickbay to take a look at 'John'. Both would descend into his mind, Kinnison simply carrying Kirk's consciousness along with his, a simple task for a Second Stage Lensman.

The medical bay around the Captain and Lensman faded, blurring in color until only blackness remained. Kirk felt like he was falling, wind swept past his face but his orientation did not seem obvious, he felt unsure, uneasy. More wind, more blackness. Sensing his friend's uneasiness, Kimbal smiled reassuringly, accustomed to the sensation and movement of mind.

"Jim, we are now inside 'John's' memories, it will give us a glimpse of what is going on inside his head."

Now the pair stood in a kitchen, floating dust particles illuminated by sunlight as they passed through. Kirk lifted his hand into the light stream; he felt the heat, warmth. It reminded him of his home in Iowa, Earth. A woman stood in the kitchen talking on the phone, one hand against her ear, the other covering her mouth. To Kirk, she looked familiar; her features were soft, her cheeks soft and… _Cienna. My god, that looks like Cienna._

"This is on Earth, 'John's' home… these are subconscious memories." Kinnison paused the memory and looked around, his eyes prying back the layers as he sought to uncover exactly what it was they were witnessing. "Yes, this is his home, or at least he thinks it is his home. Significant brain damage, memory loss. The Dalek's seem to have done a number on him. Or perhaps the Old Ones, I can't tell precisely."

"That woman. She… looks like… No kidding. Of course. Of course 'John' would do anything to save her. He never mentioned this."

"Yes, it seems the Dalek's bioengineered Cienna to look like his wife, with a few upgrades of course. Her name is… " Kinnison seemed to be listening to something not audible to the Captain, "Cindy."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I'm also listening and watching a dozen other memories while we stand here."

Kirk's surprised face coaxed a laugh out of Kimbal, the dream continued as the Captain refocused on the unfolding situation. Then the door opened to the backyard and in walked 'John,' he was carrying some groceries, a big smile on his face as he saw his wife. His eyes were full of life, full of love, not sunken, not dead as they are now.

"Babe? … Babe?" 'John' dropped the grocery bag and rushed over, he put one hand on her stomach, she had a baby bump. The other on her shoulder, he looked as she listened intently into the cell phone. Finally, she dropped it onto the floor; almost fainting 'John' helped her towards a couch in the other room. Both Captain and Lensman followed, watching intently at the unfolding memory.

"She has a rare disease… incurable." commented Kinnison.

"Can they see us?"

"This is just a memory Jim."

"So then why is 'John' looking at me?"

Kimbal paused the images and moved a few feet to take a look from his friend's vantage point. He smiled and tapped Kirk on the shoulder and pointed to the wall, a clock hung eye level with the Captain. Kirk's eyes narrowed and he turned back towards 'John'.

"I could have sworn… he followed me as I moved in front of the clock."

Kinnison offered a skeptical look and rewound the memory a few seconds. Sure enough, 'John' looked at the clock before Kirk had stepped in front of his gaze. Or had he?

"Are you sure his head moved that way a second ago?" Kirk's hesitation and double guessing now caused Kinnison to second guess the direction in which 'John's' eyes pointed before the rewind.

"We are going to skip forward, this is where it all went downhill."

The kitchen and living room were gone, so too was Cindy and the surrounding house. Now a graveyard, cold sleet and gray clouds darkened the sky overhead. It looked to be early spring, leaves had not yet grown on the trees and patches of slush covered the sunken areas of the brownish grass.

Laying in front of the men was a withered and malnourished shell of his former self; 'John' lay beside a gravestone. His green parka flapping furiously against the strong gusts of wind whipping throughout the open cemetery. His jeans were stained and it appeared he had lost a lot of weight. His hand lay on the base of the gravestone, nails no longer maintained, appearing dirty and unhealthy.

[[[ Cindy Whately, 2055-2079]]]

"She didn't make it…"

"No," acknowledged Kinnison. "His memory is scattered, but this is where he was born. She took his name, that is what he knows. We are in Dunwich, Massachusetts."

Kirk looked carefully at their surroundings. Overnourished trees encircled the ancient graveyard, with rolling hills casting pale shadows throughout the landscape. Isolation, desolation, hopelessness best describe this memory. Dilapidated tombstones, broken and unkept lay strewn throughout. The Captain noted the names of the few still standing.

Wilbur Whately 1913-1928

Lavinia Whately 1878-1926

'Old' Noah Whately 1845-1924

A bronze plaque covered in moss and dirt lay beside the row. It read,

[[[

 _ **Donated by Miskatonic University 1929, Professor Henry Armitage, Professor Francis Morgan, Professor Warren Rice.**_

 _ **May the brother of Wilbur Whately find peace in the afterlife. May God have mercy on his soul.**_

]]]

Kirk moved back towards Kinnison, his feet splashing through the shallow puddles.

"Seems 'John's' relatives were buried here. Strange that the one over there," pointing towards the plaque, "did not have a name, perhaps a stillbirth? Medicine must have been… lacking. He slept here, lost everything. Poor guy." Even though this all occurred within 'John's' mind, Kirk still felt a chill run down his spine. _So my friend, this is who you are._ The Captain took another step, then his eye caught a glimpse of something far off.

"Kim! Look!" Kirk pointed to a dark patch of trees a few hundred feet off. Kim closed the short distance between them and followed the invisible line Kirk's finger drew toward the treeline.

Nothing.

"Just shadows Jim. He doesn't remember anything, he can't have things in his memory he doesn't remember."

"No. No. There were eyes, and a face. Something was there, looking right at me."

Kimbal grabbed Kirk by the shoulders and looked straight at him, his mind peering inside the Captain's, looking back at what he had just seen.

"That's…" now the Lensman looked ominously towards the treeline, "...impossible. There was something there..."

"We are not alone in here."

Rain continued to pour down the necks of both men, but Kim was elsewhere, his mind sweeping the entire spectrum of the dreams and memories.

"No. We are alone."

The sky now cleared and time accelerated, grass greened and trees grew leaves, but 'John' remained. His body deteriorating, alive but barely.

The scenery cut to an alley somewhere in a large city, 'John' sat alone behind a dumpster, his face a craggy mess, he was bleeding from large gashes on his face from frequent fights for food and shelter.

"This is where he lived. In the streets of New York, but this is another Earth than you know Jim. It's bad here, awful." Kim looked around, his eyes peering through the walls of the memories and into others, revealing to him the true extent of destruction and filth sweeping the city. "The military often conscripted homeless and forced them to work without pay; they lived in barracks, like slaves."

Fast forward, 'John' now laced up his black leather boots and green armor. He sat on a shuttle flying towards Mars, twenty other conscripts sat uneasily in their seats. Unlike in the current time, where the armor is a tattered and tarnished mess, here it looked pristine and unused.

"He doesn't seem nervous at all," commented Kirk as he stepped closer and stared directly into the now sunken eyes of his friend. "How long was he on the street?"

"He doesn't remember."

Now the scenery changed yet again, flashing warning lights illuminated dark hallways and dead bodies littered the ground.

"This is Phobos,"

'John' pressed himself against a wall, a mutated _something_ lay at his side, evidently killed by the Marine. What Kirk and Kinnison saw now was the hellish nightmare that 'John' fought through, the turmoil and destruction that made him Doom. For the next several hours, Kirk and Kinnison watched as endless hordes of beasts from another dimension flowed into the base. Blistering fire from machine guns, plasma guns, shotguns and all manner of weapon rattled and overwhelmed the two men's senses. A living nightmare of flesh, fire, and blood.

In the final memory, 'John' sat in the corner of a room, laughing hysterically as he scrolled through the Necronomicon. His mind had snapped, the Dalek and Old One's plan to chisel away his humanity worked. Now with the help of whispers from beyond, the untold stories of the old book translated easily into his brain.

The memory promptly ended at that moment.

"This is where the Vortex blew, where the Time Destroyer detonated, according to Cienna," commented Kinnison while each man now stood in a white room.

"Where are we now?" asked the Captain.

"We are between his memories, consciousness, and subconsciousness. In a safe place where we can chat inside his mind." Kinnison smiled but noticed a look of dread on the Captain's face. "Jim? Jim, what's the matter?"

Kirk looked stone-faced, his eyes looking just past Kinnison's shoulder,

"Kim, if 'John' doesn't know we are here… why is he looking at us through the wall?"

The Lensman spun around and instantly threw everything he had into a mental block. The white walls blew outward in all directions, but 'John's' face remained. His eyes fixated, his stature growing by leaps and bounds, sky rocketing above and below. Blackness now surrounded them and somehow, incomprehensible to the Lensman they began to fall. Deep down into the pit of madness, horror, and utter nothingness.

Despite the Second Stage Lensman's superb mental block, 'John's' voice oozed into the Captain and Lensman consciousness. They heard him, felt him, 'John's' face seemed a hundred feet tall, growing still.

 **I was a man once,**

Ghostly images began to move and swirl about, old memories surfacing and fading from view. As 'John' spoke, the images brightened in intensity, swirling like a tornado.

 **A husband,**

 **A father,**

 **Now I am something else,**

'John's' head continued to grow, now the size of a building looking down upon the shrinking men. Eyes glowing red with fire belching ambers; the face was mutating and deforming into something awful. Kinnison fought desperately to maintain control of the situation, but no matter how hard he pushed, he could not fight it. 'John's' face started to move forward, his mouth opened but no human teeth existed in the voluminous cavern of darkness, just rows of razor-sharp daggers.

"John! We want to help you!" Pleaded Kirk, his hands stretched outward.

 **We all have our own problems,**

Flashing in the whirlwind came terrible images of routine beatings at the hands of street cops in New York, and the robbing of stores for money and food. Burning barrels beneath bridges and alleys to fight off the bitter cold.

 **Our own issues,**

"John, they are evil incarnate. They must be stopped."

 **They protect me,**

 **They protect her,**

"If you kill us 'John', what will you tell Cienna!?" shouted Kirk as he covered his head from the impending attack,

 **The Deceiver stole her from you!**

 _Wait, what?_ Kirk did not immediately understand, but something else spoke in the darkness, from below, far below in the bottomless pit.

"Something else IS in here Jim!" Shouted Kinnison as a whirlwind of screaming and chaos suddenly filled their ears. "I… I am going to kill them. I'm going to send a mental bolt," shouted Kinnison, not sounding entirely sure.

"Noooo!" Shouted the giant head, withdrawing its razor attack. "No! I need them!" John's eyes looked downward, past the two floating men and into the blackness. His expression now desperate, "Do not hurt them!"

"Kim, can you kill them?" asked Kirk, his frantic voice indicative of the insanity they found themselves in

"I do not know, but I should try."

"Should you?"

Kim stopped and thought for a moment. Kirk's hard expression burning a hole into his mind,

"No.. no. It's a trick. We need to leave now!"

Suddenly, 'John's' head burst open and from it a million mouths and eyes squirming and writhing on disgusting tentacles, a horror of horrors launched forward, both men jumped and instinctively covered their faces.

Then.

Kirk and Kinnison both found themselves standing in sickbay, exactly where they had been when they decided to enter the soldier's mind.

McCoy stood watching, surprised to see them looking around, seemingly confused.

"That's it? That was less than a second."

"We're out," commented the surprised Captain, ignoring McCoy's remark for the time being.

"Yes, I pulled us out. He won't realize this happened. We were figments of a dream to him."

Both Captain and Lensman exited sickbay, their conversation a mix of verbal and telepathy as they made their way to Luke.

"Jim, we need to strike at the Dalek's soon, a super weapon needs to be constructed."

"Agreed. We need to locate them."

"Yes, the war will end soon between you and the Empire. Their distribution channel for bounty hunters is in ruins, their industrial hub destroyed. I didn't have time to get the Death Star though. That I regret."

"I know."

Kinnison paused and smiled, he had shared everything in its entirety with Kirk upon returning, but it was nice to speak to someone on the same wavelength after almost a year in complete isolation. Cienna and Spock also participants in the mind swap, worked numbers to try and determine a form of super weapon capable of taking out a Dalek base in a single swoop.

"Jim, if the Metron's can share anything with us, any tidbits of information."

"I don't think we can coax them into that, they are stubborn. We also can't expose the Dauntless, not even to protect Betazed. We need to keep it hidden for a final attack on the Dalek's."

"Assuming they don't know about it already. Cienna said their sensors are formidable."

Discussion continued for several minutes as the two men made their way to see Luke in conditioning room three. Before entering Kinnison stopped Kirk and shared another series of thoughts.

"Boskone, the enemy of my Galactic Patrol is running rampant. This IS big Jimmy."

"Is it possible there is another level of control beyond the Ploorians? Or are these just actors caught up in the Dalek time warp and were accidentally strewn across the universe like you?"

"I do not know. The Arisians, the creators of the Galactic Patrol and Lensman did not tell us. They were clear the war was over when Ploor was destroyed."

Kirk nodded, all the while sifting through the treasure trove of knowledge deposited into his mind when Kinnison arrived. _Who exactly are we dealing with? What threat do they pose?_

"If all Boskone wants is control, if their ideology is dictatorship, that the strong survive... that is a threat. But. Not an existential threat to our survival as a species. And if the remnants of their organization is now scattered throughout, they can be swiftly dealt with once the Dalek's are killed."

"Hrmmm. Don't underestimate these people Jim. Yes their ideology is different, but they'll kill you or I as quickly as you'd kill a stormtrooper. They don't kill for killing sake, but they would kill to continue their expansion and goals and so on and so forth."

"They remind me of the old Klingons I once knew, back in my time."

Kinnison scanned the Captain's memories and smiled,

"Yes actually, a little bit. I suppose the difference between the old Klingons and Boskone hierarchy is with the Klingons; there existed a clear line of sight between cause and effect. A planet or people subjugated here or there could be traced back to the Klingon government." Kinnison continued to scan the Captain's mind for old run-ins with his favorite former foe. Making mental notes as he crafted his story. "With Boskone, you'd never know if it was them, or just some local problems, or perhaps a new entity or influencer. They might have fifteen or twenty different channels. Politics, drugs, prostitution, gun running, trade… everything. I once took a year to infiltrate a drug-running ring, just to find out the shot callers were on the other side of the galaxy communicating by a telepathic signal. It's a colossal effort, and I had millions of other Lensman working against them as well. The Arisians who were billions of years old, whose minds could travel the Universe and beyond helped us, steering our actions in the right direction."

"Where are they now? The Arisians?"

"I suspect they are not able to travel beyond their own universe, the Dalek's making mince meat of the temporal planes."

"But you. You're here…"

"I came mechanically, through a hyperspatial tube, so, I suppose it's still possible but I do not know. That is how Boskone came, they were in the tube with me. They must have been."

The door to the exercise room hissed open; Luke sat on a raised platform surrounded by a railing. His fighter pilot attire switched to a black outfit, the same worn against Vader aboard the Death Star in another future. The two men entered and stopped at the edge of guardrail, the young man sat cross-legged on the ground, his eyes closed and demeanor calm.

After a few seconds Luke opened his eyes and slowly rose to his feet, he smiled gently and nodded towards the Lensman.

"Luke Skywalker, meet Kimball Kinnison." Luke offered his hand and Kim graciously accepted it. As they shook Luke poured over the Lensman with the Force, searching and probing his destiny, past, future. He felt the sureness, the incorruptible nature of the mind. A Jedi's mind easily if he so chooses. _Same as Kirk._

Kinnison smiled warmly but did not push too hard with a mind probe. He knew Luke possessed the ability to use the Force much as Vader had, and did not want to trigger the Force as a threat.

"Nice to meet you Kimball,"

"Likewise,"

Kirk motioned Luke towards a monitor along the wall and switched it on,

"Luke, this just came in from Starfleet Command, I think you need to see this."

Luke viewed the security footage carefully, his eyes alert to the significance of the intrusion. Darth Maul and Boba Fett slashing and blasting their way through the Tokyo facility. The last image was Director Sloan teleporting away before the video went blank in the subsequent explosion.

"That is a Sith. I am not sure who though. Not Vader.

"No." quipped Kinnison quickly.

Luke eyed the Lensman before continuing.

"The other is Boba Fett, a bounty hunter from my galaxy. Who did they grab in the cell?"

"Shunor, a currency trader. Apparently from the Gamma Quadrant according to Starfleet Intelligence records." Kirk asked Luke if he knew the feline, hoping she may have originated from the Imperial galaxy. Unfortunately Luke shook his head, unaware of who she was.

"Kimball, do you know Darth Vader?" This question from Luke created a slight hesitation in the Lensman. A flurry of questions and probable answers streamed through his brain.

 _Do Luke and Vader know one another?_

 _Are they old friends?_

 _Are they related?_

 _Do all Force users have a connection?_

 _Does he already know and is testing me?_

 _Possibly… to all the above._

"We had a run in, on Outland Transit Station." As Kimball spoke, he noticed Luke staring at him, almost through him. _Perhaps he is using the Force, can he read my mind? No. I do not think so. Not without me knowing._

"I glad you are alright. James tells me you have quite the mind, could you share your experience with me?"

"Certainly." replied the Lensman. He figured lying or hiding events would be a wrong first step in their new relationship. In an instant it was all over, Luke stood blinking as the unexpected surge of memories flushed into his mind. He saw the battle, the near fight to the death aboard Outland, the hesitation and then eventual reluctance to kill his father.

"I think it's time I teach you a few things about lightsabers, come."

Luke, Kirk and Kinnison stepped onto the raised platform where Luke had been meditating a few minutes earlier. On a small table lay two lightsabers, he picked them up, tossing one to Kirk.

"Jim, these are set on sparing mode. The intensity has been brought down ninety-nine percent, if the blade touches you, it will just leave a small burn. Jedi use this to practice."

Kirk studied it for a moment then pressed the button, a hiss and a blue blade of energy hummed before the captain's eyes. Luke smiled and ignited his own green saber, he felt if he could teach the two men how they operate, they may be ready for any future run-ins with Maul or his father.

Kirk's eyes wandered up and down the blade, the handle, and then to his opponent.

Then.

Lunging forward he smacked hard into Luke's saber, energy crackled and both fought to maintain their balances. Disengaging, Kirk sidestepped and continued his attack. Luke had never witnessed such strange and awkward swipes and footwork, they seemed almost comedic.

Shoving hard, Luke pressed the Captain back, left, right, up, down, the lightsaber came at all angles, but to Luke's surprise, each and every attack was parried or avoided. The captain, seemingly floundering among his comedic and "overacted" actions, continued the fight.

"You fight well captain," commented Luke as their sabers connected again and again. But soon the precision and training of the Jedi became evident, Kirk yelped as the green saber singed his shirt, then arm, and soon Kirk retracted the blade of his weapon.

"I guess I need practice,"

"You did well, better than I expected."

Kirk smiled but there was something behind the smile, he did not like losing, he did not believe in it. Taking a moment to prepare himself again he reignited the blade and faced Luke.

"One more round."

Luke nodded and reignited, both looked at each other intently, no more smiles or chatty behavior. Luke could feel the tension through the Force; Kirk wanted to win. Same as before, Kirk's attack started off with a lunge, only this time, embarrassingly he tripped and lost the lightsaber from his grip. It deactivated and rolled to a stop a few feet from Luke.

"Woops." Kirk half-chuckled and walked over to pick it up, Luke snickered and lowered his saber to his side as he waited for the Captain.

"Have to be careful Jim, sometimes the handle can get-"

WOOSH!

Luke blinked, he felt a burning sensation in his stomach, it had happened so fast his brain barely processed the events. Upon bending down for his saber, Kirk had angled it upward and ignited it from the ground; the blue saber passing into the Jedi's exposed stomach. Kirk and Luke's eyes met, a slow smile crept along the Captain's mouth as he withdrew the blade and stood up. Luke felt strangely confused, _had the captain purposely dropped the lightsaber?_

Kinnison burst into a hearty laugh and walked over and patted Jim on the shoulder,

"Good god you hate losing don't you Jim."

Luke deactivated his saber, trying to hide his bemused smile, the Captain had pulled a crafty trick, so wholly unexpected he had not anticipated it.

"Give it a go Kim," said Kirk passing him the saber.

Accepting the blue lightsaber, the Lensman nodded at Luke before moving to the opposite side of the platform. He would not use his telepathic power, this was purely physical practice, a workout.

Jedi and Lensman squared off, the fighting utterly different to that of the starship captain. Kinnison's power of perception allowed for precise and detailed knowledge of all movement, he could fight with his eyes closed as comfortable as if open. Compared to Luke's Force power, it was more precise and consistent. Whereas the Force allowed for pre-cognition, knowing something before it occurred. But this did not always prove perfect; sometimes the mind did not register what the Force told them. Sometimes mistakes were made. Two different powers now met in clashes of blade and will.

Immediately Luke came forward and attacked, sensing the decades of battle under the Lensman belt, the ultimate hardened mind lavished in combat. Unbreakable.

Kimball slashed forward, their sabers meeting and holding their positions. Luke did not want to use the Force for extra power, but he sensed if he did not, the much stronger Kinnison would overwhelm him. As if sensing the inevitable, like a King Cobra, Kinnison's left hand snapped forward, grabbing Luke's arm in a vice-like grip. Now the men wrestled for control of Luke's arm, all the while pushing against one another with their blades.

Energy sparked, swords crackled.

With a push of Force energy, Kinnison staggered backward but regained his balance. Luke had given him a taste of his power, something the Lensman knew all too well from Vader. Narrowing his focus, Kinnison planned a final attack, one he felt could trip the Jedi up. As Kimball rushed forward he struck wildly, the blow easily caught by Luke's lightsaber, but Kinnison's attack did not end. His right hand released the saber and came through Luke's guard, connecting into his left shoulder with a solid fist.

The Jedi reeled backward, barely in time to see the blue-blade coming straight for his head. Instinctively, Luke called upon the Force for guidance. In a fraction of a second, he reached out and deactivated his opponent's weapon. Kinnison's 'final' strike failed, his saber blade withdrawing just before connecting with Luke's exposed head. As his strike fizzled, Luke's green saber came up and connected with the Lensman's torso, "killing" him.

"Nice trick," commented Kirk, nodding his head in approval.

Luke wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and looked at his new friends. Despite their competitiveness, they were honest, genuine people. Trustworthy to the very end.

"The Dauntless could replicate enough of these for everyone on this ship," commented Kinnison.

Luke's ears perked,

"Replicate?"

"Yes, my ship has advanced technology in every degree, I could make a lightsaber for everyone. We have phasers already but… I don't see why it would hurt? Might be useful in close combat."

Twenty minutes later the men stood in front of a small pile of different lightsabers spread across the table. Kirk picked one up and inspected it.

"How do we adjust the color,"

"Here," Luke adjusted a few items in the base and Kirk ignited it, yellow, brighter than his gold shirt but close enough.

"I'll stick with blue," commented Kinnison.

"I'll need a lot more practice. Hopefully I'll never have to use it," Jim saying this more to himself than anyone else.

"Your friend is coming,"

Kirk looked over at Kinnison,

"What?"

The door to the exercise facility hissed open and all three men turned their heads. 'John' stood in the doorway, flanked by Cienna and Bones. Kirk's heart skipped a beat as the soldier entered, his eyes zeroing in on each of them. Bones held a medical kit in his hands; he shared a concerned look with Kirk while moving to the side of the room. Cienna's beautiful smile radiated outward, but her eyes were narrow, worried. She had sat on the bedside for the better part of the day, talking and soothing the soldier. Bones had objected to him leaving sickbay, but after a gentle chat with Cienna he had relented.

Captain Kirk briskly walked to the edge of the platform and smiled,

"John. Welcome back. You saved us. Thank you."

"I am just glad I could help, I must have taken a few hits, my memory is vague."

Luke sensed confusion, anger, guilt, and many other emotions swirling in the mind of the soldier, but the evil he detected before was not present. Likewise, Kinnison probed the surface of 'John's' consciousness, he read no deception.

"What are you three doing?" asked 'John' making his way onto the platform to join them. Each of the men glanced at one another before clearing their throats.

"Oh, just practicing with a weapon, not as effective as a phaser or blaster though," said Kirk, downplaying its significance. He glanced over at Cienna who shared a concerned look with him. "John, I'd like you to meet my friend Kimball Kinnison, he's helping us in the war effort."

Kinnison extended his hand, 'John' slowly accepted the gesture; his dull eyes unwavering as they met the Lensman. Beyond the dead-blackness, Kinnison felt as if someone else watched him.

"And 'John', do you remember Luke?"

The soldier turned and shook the Jedi's hand, a slight nod of the head and he released his grip.

"A little, I remember you helped save the ship or something. Sorry, I took a few knocks. I had a few strange dreams as well, sorry guys. Not feeling like myself." Glancing down at the pile of lightsabers, he picked one up. "Is… is this what you were holding in engineering? How does it work?"

"Yes," he said calmly, reaching for his own blade on his hip. "It's an ancient Jedi weapon, around long before blasters. The tradition has been passed down from-"

"-From generation to generation. Since the beginning," interrupted John, almost ignoring Luke in the process.

Now in the glimmers of the Force, Luke felt _something_ , boiling just beneath, bubbling like a cauldron ready to erupt. Kinnison's mind probe also felt strange, no longer clear, as if experiencing interference, like a radio antenna in a tunnel.

Whoosh! The blade ignited.

Luke's heart beat quicker, a blue energy blade did not emerge. Instead this one was pure black, he did not know how but the color had changed. The dark blade cast shadows across the soldier's scarred and grizzly face, his dead eyes staring intently at the light. Shadows and images not representative of the room he currently occupied flashed across his glassy eyes.

"Maybe we should call it a day?" chirped Bones from the corner nervously.

Kirk wiped his dry mouth, _we have to keep him on our side, have to keep him with us, a friend, an ally._

 _Agreed,_ replied Kinnison telepathically.

"I have seen hell. There was no order, no rules, no turns. The best practice is to jump in." Twisting the blade in his hand, he brought it down to a guard position.

Kirk brought his blade to bare and readied himself. Luke and Kinnison ignited, all four men stood in a circle ten feet apart. Kinnison stared intently into 'John's' eyes, the soldier returning the glare, but there existed more. The deadeyes were pulling Kim in, tugging at his mind. Enticing him to join the terrorized soul, deep down where _THEY_ waited.

 _He knows, he knows who I am. He knows we were in his memories._

Kinnison blinked and for a moment, a fraction of a millionth of a second, 'John's' face did not exist. Only a monstrous perversion of life, a disgusting slop of flesh and oozing somethingness. Then it disappeared, as fast as it had arrived.

 _Did anyone see that?_

Luke felt a surge of danger and prepared himself,

Kirk took a deep breath,

"Every man for himself."

 **AS IT ALWAYS WAS, IS, AND EVER SHALL BE**

Now the black saber began to burn brighter, somehow, some way, the power started dialing upwards. Two percent, three, four, five.

Kirk noticed the throbbing power, despite 'John' not touching or knowing how to operate the internal mechanism, _something_ adjusted the power upward.

Kinnison sent a mental command to both Luke and Kirk,

 _If this goes south, we all attack him at once, I'll hit him with a bolt god couldn't stop. Jim you swipe for the legs, Luke, you take the head._

 _Wait,_ ordered Kirk telepathically. He needed to say something.

"The best practice is to jump right in, to fight." Kirk held his gaze on 'John', then turning his head towards Cienna. "Won't you join us?"

A noticeable look of concern overcame 'John's' lifeless expression, he did not like this. Kirk read the expression perfectly and continued,

"Have to fight. Have to jump in. That's what you said 'John', that's what you wished for."

Whoosh! Cienna ignited a fifth lightsaber, its blue blade casting her dress in a pale glow. She positioned herself between Kirk and John, her eyes darting back and forth, readying herself.

"This setting," Kirk carefully increased the power-output of the lightsaber to match John's "...may kill us. But. That is the cost of true practice. True ability."

Hesitation. 'John's' mind reeled, he did not want Cienna harmed. _What DO I want?_

 **TO RIP THEM APART**

 _No. No these are my friends. They fight for good, they fight for all humanity. Like I did._ For a long frightful second, everyone stood still, waiting for the first move. It never came. Demons clawing and festering began to subside, he calmed and deactivated his lightsaber. He offered it to Kirk but the captain refused,

"No 'John'. When the time comes, you will need that to protect us. Thanks."

The soldier's eyes look downcast, a terrible expression of sadness on his face, he felt awful.

"I'm starving 'John', want to join me?" interjected Cienna. Her voice as soft as down-pillows, capable of soothing any man's ears. He turned and followed her out of the room, glancing back only once to nod at the doctor standing against the wall. As soon as the door hissed closed, Luke ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, Kinnison took a deep breath, each man looking at Kirk. Joining them on the platform was Bones, furious and red-faced.

"You are taking a big risk Jim!"

"The risk is greater if he becomes our enemy!" countered Kirk.

"He's on a razor's edge. If he turns on us. If he...finds out…" Bones was careful not to insinuate what he was sure the others already knew, but despite this, Kirk's relationship with Cienna reeked of danger.

"Bones… We have to keep him on our side. Our friend." No one said anything, each sensing Kirk was not finished. "Gentlemen. He is the key to keep back the Old Ones. Cienna and the Dalek's were to use him to open the gateway, to let them out. Imagine if he felt there was nothing to live for? He's this dangerous as a friend, imagine him an enemy?"

"Jim." Kinnison seemed to be in deep thought, contemplating future events in his head. "There may be a way to keep him on our side, but, not have him near her or us. You said she was to trick him into opening the Gate. Isn't it dangerous to keep them together?"

"Perhaps. What's your idea?"

"He needs a mission, something off this ship and away from Cienna. But something to keep him occupied, isolated, but fighting for her cause."

"Yes." Luke piped up, thinking. "The Sith who attacked your installation with Boba Fett will be turned against you and her. The elite stormtroopers failed, it's only a matter of time."

"Send him to find the Sith? Kim, didn't you say the Empire will withdraw?" asked the Captain.

"Well they should, at least I believe they'll have too once we take care of the Dalek and turn our attention towards them. But in the meantime, it would get him out of here."

Kirk nodded along, the plan seemed reasonable.

"OK, so he needs a ship…"

"Han and I will take him aboard the Falcon. I sense there is more to come with this Sith. John will need my help."

"I see. But what if he won't cooperate?" asked Kirk.

"He will." Luke's eyes were faroff, thinking of his next words. He sensed the connection between Kirk and Cienna, and he did not want to startle his new ally, but he could not avoid this vision. "I see many things. Many futures. Cienna dies by this Sith's hands. John must seek him out."

"What? Dies?"

"One possible future."

Kirk's face now hard as stone, staring right into Luke's eyes.

"Not _THIS_ future. Not on my watch."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Betazed**

Only minutes away, seventy-eight Dominion ships rocketed towards Betazed. Vorta Administrator Weyoun aboard the lead dreadnought received the last instructions of his lifetime.

:Executive Command:

:Founder Homeworld:

-Ignore the Federation fleet, fly directly into the planet at maximum speed. Your life is to serve us-

Little did Weyoun know, the Founder's were now dead, wholly obliterated. The rocky surface of their world devastated by Imperial orbital bombardment moments ago. The final command nothing more than a ruse by Grand Admiral Thrawn to decimate the last of the telepaths.

Weyoun read the command twice just to be sure, he blinked and smiled softly. His life was meaningless, he knew that.

"Long live the Dominion. Long live the Founders."


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Sin Creates the Serpent

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Klingon Homeworld - Kronos**

Resembling a manufacturing hub more than a homeworld. Kronos factories belched toxic fumes miles into the air; as all manner of military production continued at full speed. New and old Birds of Prey both in orbit and on the surface prepped for action. Anything and everything that could fly moved towards the front line. No longer able to produce complex mechanisms like cloak fields, the ships were scaled down versions of their previous potential. Millions, perhaps billions of Klingon lives had perished in battle, taking with them as many or more Dominion and Cardassian personnel. Children as young as six labored day and night in assembly facilities. There existed no reprieve from the war effort, no soul rested. In the beginning, the Klingon Empire was comprised of seventy-eight planets with many outlying regions under military dictatorship. Now, only thirteen planets remained, the rest now lay in the hands of the Dominion-Cardassian alliance.

Gowron, Chancellor of the Empire sat on his oversized chair, two warrior guards on either side. He slumped in his chair; the usual full-eyed enthusiasm of the Klingon leader long gone. His hair no longer kept back, it lay in tatters along his sweaty forehead. A moment ago his advisors informed him of the Federation withdrawal from their space. Based on Klingon calculations, the war would be over in less than two weeks. The warrior spirit long zapped from his body, no Klingon knew such defeat, never in their history had such destruction come to their people. And yet, Gowron had a plan. One hatched months ago, a rebirth of a hundred-year-old mistake.

"I should kill you both where you stand," he spat.

Captain Picard stood front and center inside the Klingon throne room, his chief of security Worf at his side. After leaving Cardassia, Starfleet ordered the Enterprise to Kronos to try and convince the Klingons to surrender before it was too late. Not surprisingly, the Klingon's rejected the proposal.

"Gowron," barked Worf. "The Klingon Empire is burning. You must surrender. What honor is there if all memory is wiped away?"

"We will know Worf! We will know in our hearts!" Shouted Gowron, leaping from his chair and swinging his arms wildly in rage. He did not look well, sickly and with a strange growth around the base of his neck. Worf noticed this, as did Picard. Both warrior guards on either side were not healthy individuals, both displayed formidable tusks and additional ridges along the forehead.

Picard leaned towards Worf and whispered,

"It seems both Gowron and his guards have been exposed to the powder that we read in the medical report from the late Dr. Bashir."

Worf eyed the Captain and spoke again.

"Chancellor, you have experimented with the powder. What is your plan? What do you plan on doing?"

Gowron smiled, his teeth longer and sharper than Worf remembered, they shined in the pale red light of the Throne Room.

"Worf, son of Mogh. Every warrior feels the urge to return home during a time of crises. Do you feel it?"

Worf swayed on his feet and set his jaw. He did feel it. A burning, boiling, instinct that flowed through his veins. For months he contemplated resigning his commission aboard the Enterprise and returning to his people, to fight and ultimately die among them.

"Worf is a Starfleet officer. He is here to help you with a decision. To help you understand the situation you face."

"Picard, I know the situation we are in. We have the opportunity for a glorious last stand. We will take as many Dominion and Cardassian soldiers as we can. But…" Gowron smiled again, seemingly enjoying the moment to bask in perceived glory. "Worf, our brother, I have something for you, take a look…"

Worf turned to see two Klingon warriors walking towards him, one carrying traditional battle armor, the other a knife. Not _any_ knife, but a ceremonial blade, only reserved for the finest and most cherished Klingons. Worf accepted both and looked at the handle carefully, a small inscription.

[[Worf son of Mogh]]

"Your last name has been erased from our records, dishonored. But no longer. We need you Worf."

"My duty-"

"What will your son think of you if you return to Earth and your entire race is dead?"

Picard focused in on his security chief's response, he had not anticipated this. Guilt as painful as any blade stabbed at Worf's heart. _What would Alexander think of me? Can I crawl back like a coward to Earth?_

"Worf…" whispered the Captain. "He is trying to-"

Gowron slowly stood, he seemed in pain, his body ached and muscles strained under the load. With much effort, he unclipped his armor, letting it fall to the floor. Gowron stood bare-chested, growths covering a significant portion of his stomach.

"A hundred years ago, the powder turned our race into warriors. It took what we had slivers of, and amplified it." As the Chancellor said this, he touched the ridges of his head, then pointed towards the tusks of his bodyguards. "We are ready now, we've harvested the last of the powder from the derelict ship that we so foolishly set aside."

"Gowron, this is madness! Look at your warriors. They are not Klingon!" Worf pointed to each bodyguard. Both responded with a snort, but did not speak. Their speech taken from them by their mutated throats.

"These Klingons could tear apart ten warriors!" Shouted Gowron in response to Worf's accusation. "Die a warrior Worf, or live a coward. The choice is yours. Stovokor accepts all those who die in battle my friend."

Worf stood silently beside Picard, he could feel the impulses in his blood, a sickly and irresistible draw pulled him to his inevitable fate. To die a warrior was every Klingons ultimate wish.

"Think of it Worf, the person you stand beside now, are the same people removing their fleets. He!" pointed Gowron towards Picard, "is allowing our Empire to fall. Our children will burn."

"It is not my decision Gowron, I am here to advise you to surrender, I cannot be held responsible for your decisions." In the corner of Picard's eye he could see Worf moving his hand towards his Starfleet communicator, the agonizingly long movement showed the mental battle waging in his mind. Typically, a Starfleet officers resignation would be the removal of the communicator badge and its return to their commanding officer. Picard now watched in slow motion as this occurred.

"Wait…" whispered Picard, placing his hand on Worf's forearm. "Mr. Worf. Before you make your decision, let me say one thing. Kahless, your greatest warrior-"

"Do not use that name!" Shouted Gowron from a dozen feet away. His eyes bloodshot, slobber pooling in the creases of his mouth.

"Do you know why your people remember the name?" Picard directed the question towards Worf, but ultimately to any Klingon listening. Worf stood silent, unsure of his captain's direction. "The reason you remember is your society survived the wars thousands of years ago. His name and spirit passed on through the generations. If the Klingon Empire perishes, and all Klingons along with it, no one will remember him. There will be no one left. Who then gentlemen will sing the songs? To remember the glory?" Picard stepped away from Worf and faced Gowron, "Only a coward is scared to live with defeat. Surrender and face the consequences."

Worf exhaled loudly, his chest heaving.

"Captain, the Chancellor seems to have made his decision. I do not want to be the last of the Klingon's, I _MUST_ die with my people."

Picard nodded his head, and in only a way he could convey, a sense of disappointment emanated from his face.

"Then I guess it will be the Romulans, Humans, and Dominion who write your history. I have no further time for this." The captain moved back towards the rear door of the Thone Room where he initially entered. "Mr. Worf, are you coming or staying? I have a history book to write."

Worf's nostrils flared, his hand still on his communicator badge, he looked back towards Gowron and then towards Picard. Slowly, he pulled it from his chest and looked at it a long moment. Gowron's grin spread from ear to ear.

Then.

Worf tossed the Starfleet badge towards Gowron who snatched it out of the air, his face a flurry of confusion then anger.

"The first chapter will be, Gowron the Fool and Coward." Worf lumbered back towards Picard and turned to face the Chancellor once more. "I will rebuild the Klingon Empire. You... will not be remembered."

"Fools!" Gowron contorted in rage, he pulled at his hair, shockingly a clump detached and fell to the ground. From behind his back he pulled out a device from his belt, a small black box with a green button. He studied it and tossed it aside before speaking. "That button. I pressed it eighteen-hours ago. The process has begun."

"What… what have you done?"

Gowron collapsed into his chair, one leg elevated on the oversized armrest.

"By releasing the last of the powder into the atmosphere around our major cities, we will evolve like before." His guards snorted and their tusks snapped in agreement.

Suddenly and with incredible ironic timing a large door across the throne chamber burst open and a large mass clambered and heaved towards them. Moving slowly and awkwardly into the light was a pile of Klingon's. Fused together at various points, it acted like a giant insect, a disgusting sight to be sure.

Gowron jumped out of his chair and looked in amazement, but confusion and fear also became evident in his expression.

"What… what is this?"

Each bodyguard began to shake and squeal, holding their sides and collapsing onto the ground. Other warriors ran over to protect the Chancellor, they too displaying signs of exposure.

"Is this the powder Gowron? Is this what has happened?" Shouted Picard over the wild animal noises. The clumsily moving mesh of Klingon warriors continued to evolve, individuals melting into the giant pile of hideous flesh.

"Captain, we need to leave. Now!" Barked Worf, standing in front of Picard to shield him from a possible attack.

Picard's communicator beeped,

"Crusher to Captain." Picard tapped his communicator,

"Picard here,"

"Captain, I'm monitoring the biometric scanners from the bridge. Something is happening down there. You need to leave. Now."

As both Starfleet officers watched in amazement at the sluggish insectoid, a large platoon of Klingon warriors rushed into the room and fired their disruptors at the multi-legged beast. It whaled in pain and flung itself towards the group of soldiers. Worf pushed Picard back with one hand towards the exit door. The Throne Room, like any other head of government was protected by a shield. Captain and Security Chief would need to exit the building if they wished to teleport away.

Squeals like slaughtered hogs filled the halls as every Klingon Warrior assembled and ran to protect their Chancellor. Some soldiers did not make it more than a few feet before being attacked by another, savagely bitten and torn by rapid ferial creatures once calling themselves Klingons. Picking up a discarded disruptor pistol, Worf continued to push Picard towards the exit. Turning the last corner, both halted and looked at the mutated creature blocking their path. Standing at just under seven-feet, it could have been said to be two or three Klingon's clumped together, with five legs and many arms, it swayed in the corridor, unbalanced but deadly.

Not hesitating, Worf dialed the disruptor to maximum and fired rapidly, the green energy smacked into the disturbing gargoyle. It howled and squealed, but did not stop its charge forward. Backpedaling to give themselves distance, the torrential blasts of disruptor finally brought the wild creature to a standstill. Keeled over, its multiple arms and legs spasming in a final death sprawl, before a last belch of exasperated trauma.

Now both men ran headlong for the exit door, and upon reaching the front steps of the great hall, they both stopped and surveyed the scene. From high above, three Klingon fighters swept downward and unloaded a salvo into a distant target. Green flashes illuminated the horizon and distant explosions rumbled like thunder.

The last image Picard and Worf witnessed just as their emergency transport activated was a small child screaming in the distance as he fell to the angry claws of some mutated creature.

Aboard the Enterprise high above Kronos Picard and Worf were safe, but far below on the surface pandemonium swept the globe. Warrior against warrior, husband against wife, and so on and so forth until everything and everyone lay dead or consumed by the rapidly spreading mutations. As described so accurately by Director Sloan to the Federation Security Council, the disease moved from person to person, animal to animal. Resembling a Flood smashing through a village during monsoon season, the unstoppable, incurable Flood Super Cell now fell upon the galaxy.

Captain Kirk's call into the blackness through the Guardian of Forever has been answered. A _**Gravemind**_ forms, the Precursors return.

 **Q Continuum**

Common-Q, our Q, sat along the wooden bar within the rickety tavern, wind howling like a wild animal, separated from the clustered group by thin wooden walls. Not real wood, not real beams. Like before only a representation of the higher dimension in which the self-proclaimed omnipotent beings dwell. As the shot glass touched his lips, he hesitated, as if someone were calling for him from far off.

Before Common-Q could say anything, an older Q with a mustache and banker top hat announced what others now felt.

"Our brothers have returned. In the form of a Gravemind."

"We are far beyond them now. Immortal. Omnipotent," said another.

"Beyond their understanding," added a third.

"But where are their minds? Where do they exist?" Asked the youngest Q, _only_ four-billion years old.

"In the Flood Super Cell, the Precursor consciousness exists, which resides in the culmination of flesh that is a Gravemind," said the oldest Q, stroking his mustache.

Common-Q, noted the question was not _precisely_ answered and pulled himself off the bar stool and walked over to an adjoining table.

"We don't know."

Silence.

Top hat Q flared his nostrils and took another puff from his cigar.

"What our friend here means to say is-"

"What I mean to say," interrupted common-Q "...is that we do not know where their consciousness lay before they return."

Gasps came from all directions. After an unusually long puff from his cigar, top hat Q elaborated.

"Sit down Q, be reasonable. We do not know because we have never looked into it."

Young-Q opened his mouth to speak but was promptly silenced with a sharp finger. The old man continued,

"I know where this is going. The Gates, perhaps one called the Ultimate Gate. We dreamed, we heard calls... whispers. But, like the Precursors, who also heard the calling, we evolved, and our superior minds no longer were plagued by such wondrous examples of imagination. We can travel anywhere time exists, back to the inception of creation, or forward, but no such place or time exists that would describe this concept."

Common-Q rolled his eyes and yawned, bored at the same old explanation.

"We have discussed this before, a long time ago young one," smiling at young-Q. "But one question exists we cannot answer."

"Be careful Q," said one.

"Do not tread this path," said another.

Common-Q raised his hand into the air to silence the naysayers,

"Please. Please. Be omnipotent. What are we, humans? Good grief." That earned a small chuckle from female-Q as common-Q continued his line of reasoning. "Why did our brothers and the Q dream the same dreams? Two different species dreaming the same concepts? Where did the images come from if we and our brothers were the first to exist? Another universe older than this one? We have traveled to millions, billions of other universes and dimensions, back and forwards. We have never met those who called to us. Why?"

No one said a word, so common-Q continued.

"And now a soldier from another Universe, one we have not got around to visiting dreams and sees the same images we did, billions of years ago. How?"

Top hat Q stood, raising his hands to bring order to his whispering and hesitant brethren.

"When the temporal winds subside, and time returns to normal, we have several items to address. First, it has been decided the Dalek's history be changed, reigned in. Second to visit the soldier's universe to see why he experiences our ancient dreams."

"The Dalek's are a curious bunch, I've read their minds," said one.

"As have I"

"And I"

Many Q's nodded in smug satisfaction.

"They intend to build a weapon to harm us, it will not work."

"No it will not."

"They lack the knowledge of the thought."

"They lack experience with mind weaponry."

Young-Q nodded along, having read the Dalek minds and reaching the same conclusion. But. Something still bothered him, a topic he had raised before.

"Forgive me for what I am about to say. I have read the mind of the Supreme Dalek, it wholeheartedly believes in the Old Ones. In the stories of the Necronomicon that we dismiss outright." 

"Only through the power of mind or technology can dimensions be accessed, this is why they are of no threat to us." Top hat Q lit another cigar as he winked at the young-Q.

"Maybe we should ask the Precursors about the Ultimate Gate and Yog-Sothoth? They heard the whispers like we did." Young-Q, not alive when the Q were still mortal and existing within the regular universe seemed perplexed at the logical fallacies running rampant within the Q Continuum. "If the Dalek's were able to negate our ability to move, even for a short period, should we discount their intent in this matter?"

"We are beyond reproach. Do not question the Q leadership. Do you think we could survive for billions and billions of years without knowing a thing or two?" The statement by top hat Q ended the conversation. Once again the bar returned to its typical dull atmosphere. The same events occurring over and over. Pieces on chessboards, representing players of the universe below, they moved and adjusted their positions. Common-Q sat in front of his board, his eyes fixed on a small pieces representing humanity. It sat towards the back of the board, the sizeable Imperial piece and smaller Dominion piece closing in around it. Common-Q grinned, his peon, Emperor Palpatine, would fulfill the test requirements, he did not expect humanity to survive. _Poor Lensman, he does not realize that despite destroying Imperial infrastructure, it will not stop their advance. Foolish mortals._

Sitting in his chair he noticed something strange in the corner of the tavern, he looked at it curiously for a long moment. Finally, he stood up and walked over to a dark corner, bending down he felt surprised at what he saw. For only the powerful mind of a Q being could notice such small and nearly imperceptible changes. The shadow, always familiar, always present had moved. In real terms, it is impossible to quantify such concepts as the tavern as it is described is not 'real', just a representation of the higher Continuum not understood.

Top hat Q walked over and bent down beside common-Q. He said nothing, standing up again he placed the cigar into his mouth. He took a long puff, the ember burning brightly in the dark corner. Perhaps deciding which words to use, top hat spoke to his friend,

"Do not be concerned, the temporal winds are pushing against our artificial dimension, the Continuum will hold. And if it does not, we will simply reform it."

Common-Q watched his old mentor walk away, then turning his attention back to the dark shadow he thought back to the planet of the Guardian of Forever. He thought of what Captain Kirk had said to him. _Those pesky mortals...what do they know…_

 _ **"Just curious if there is something out there with an IQ of two-thousand and six, or...twenty-thousand and six. Imagine… just imagine what they would know..."**_

 **Milky Way - Gamma Quadrant - Entrance to Wormhole**

Grand Admiral Thrawn stood with his hands firmly clasped behind his back. Both feet spread apart, chin high. In the rear of the bridge, men and women held their breath, the wormhole super weapon glimmered blue as it grew smaller in the distance.

"Ten seconds," began the countdown from a control officer.

"9...8...7...telemetry stable…"

The maw of the wormhole erupted outward, the entrance way to the rapid journey towards the Alpha Quadrant.

"...weapon has entered the wormhole, switching to autonomous mode...5...4...3...2...1…"

Brilliant flashes of blue and white filled the color spectrum, the wormhole opening belching strange frequencies of light and irradiated particles. After a minute, the intensity started dropping until finally, the maw closed with a whimper.

"Send a probe," ordered Thrawn. Quickly a probe droid blasted from an ejection tube and headed towards the entrance.

"Probe will reach wormhole entrance in ten seconds, standby. 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1…"

Nothing.

Thrawn's lips formed into a thin smile, the weapon worked; the wormhole destroyed. _Nothing but us can now reach the Alpha Quadrant. Any Founders still lingering will never know their planet destroyed._ Thousands of lightyears away, a world once teeming with fluidic life, lakes of Changelings lay in ruin. The surface utterly and wholly pulverized by Thrawn's mighty fleet. Some attempted to flee in escape shuttles but were caught early and destroyed.

"Bring me the report on the Borg please," asked Thrawn to Captain Needa. Twelve hours ago, the Borg cubes had disappeared from the Delta Quadrant, the last remaining cubes seemingly activated a mystery faster-than-light drive and disappeared. All Imperial probes surrounding the Metron system and far beyond had been destroyed, and so the ultimate fate of the Borg would remain a mystery to the Empire.

Thrawn grabbed the datapad out of Needa's hand and reviewed it line by line.

 _Could the Borg be moving towards the Imperial wormhole? Perhaps beyond the galaxy to regroup and reform?_ _Could the Borg have helped telepathic Founders into our Galaxy?_

 _H_ ow telepathic Founders reached the Kuat Drive Yards and Outland Transit Station still remained a mystery to Thrawn. Vader's clash with a telepathic Founder is well known, but details of the battle remain a mystery, the Dark Lord's whereabouts equally unknown. Still, the nagging questions rattled Thrawn's brain, and despite his teams best efforts, no clear answers presented themselves.

A 3D topographical map of the Milky Way shimmered into view and Thrawn and Needa looked on. The last known Rebel location being the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone; Piett arriving too late to engage and entrap them with artificial gravity generators. This irked Thrawn, but he knew deep down Piett was not to blame, _Kirk… he is crafty that one._

Switching directions, Thrawn eyed Piett's fleet sitting comfortably on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant. It had avoided real space entry at the last second when the Enterprise and Rebels had departed, preventing a conflict with the Colonists. _We remain a secret for now. But for how long? The Jedi Skywalker was reported to be on the Enterprise, now Kirk must know. But no intercepted signal has been detected from the Enterprise to Earth… and yet the Enterprise travels to Earth at high-speed. He must want to tell them in person. He will not be allowed to do so._

"Grand Admiral, Darth Maul has arrived with the prisoner, they are waiting in holding block AA2."

Minutes later, the metal sheet door slid open with a loud bang and Thrawn flanked by two guards walked into the holding cell. Maul's boot smashed down on the head of Shunor just as Thrawn entered, the Sith all but ignoring the Grand Admiral.

Smash!

Smash!

Smash!

Shunor's already limp body now lay still, Maul's venomous eyes glaring at her, then over to Thrawn.

He approached the Grand Admiral slowly,

"Once you are done, inform me at once. She dies by my hands." Thrawn bowed graciously and the Sith exited in a flurry.

Snapping his fingers, the guards rushed over and propped the bloodied feline up on the slab one might consider a bench for the prisoners. Her tattered fur a matted mess, one fang punctured her lower lip and her consciousness faltered as Thrawn tried to wake her. _Foolish Sith, what good is a prisoner in this condition. Useless._

"Shunor I believe. What a pleasure it is to meet you." Thrawn's red eyes glared downward.

No response.

"Now now Shunor, you must speak. The more information you give me, better yet, the longer it is drawn out the longer you shall live. So let's start."

Half conscious, the currency trader swayed her head, her voice a soft whisper.

"What. What do you want? Let me die."

Thrawn repositioned himself on one knee, coming face to face with the prisoner.

"You cannot die, I need information. Tell me, who finances the rogue elements within the Gamma Quadrant. Where does the money originate from?" Thrawn did not expect her to know, being in captivity for so long would have broken all her contacts, but, _perhaps she knows where it all started._ "You told Starfleet Intelligence that you made your small fortune on the planet Utoria. Then you helped smuggle, move, and produce material for a small band of scavengers and outlaws. Eventually ending up on DS9, now destroyed. I need to know what else you know. Did something happen while you were on Utoria? Did someone help you? Did Dominion credits get siphoned elsewhere while you were there?"

"Paper…" she managed to whisper.

Thrawn leaned closer, trying to hear her whispers.

"...paper. Only received instructions by paper, hand-scribbled notes. That's all." Shunor's head fell forward, but a guard reached down and yanked her fur, pulling her neck into a painful position.

"Are you saying that you received instructions by… hand written note?" Thrawn could hardly believe his OWN question. With technology integrated into all space-faring civilizations, handwritten notes were hundreds of years out of date; thousands in some cases.

"Yes," now her voice so faint he leaned closer, only a few inches from hers. The guards feeling uncomfortable held her feeble arms steady. Thrawn let out a slow breath and stood up. He stepped away and faced the wall, not looking at anything in particular, but giving himself a moment to think. His arms were crossed, his eyes moving back and forth as he tried to piece it all together. Over the course of the campaign, and even during the information gathering phase, he read thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of reports, documents, statistics. _Is it possible no amount of sensor probe or long-range scans could uncover such a clandestine effort? One run by word of mouth, by… note passing?_

"Were you instructed to crash the world currency? Dropping its value relative to the Dominion credit system? Breaking down their trade ability? To help bring down the socialist government? And, was this fortune you amassed while doing so, used to help finance startup operations for smugglers and the like?"

Shunor blinked slowly, her memory of events so long ago, so distant, so blurred, she could scarcely remember.

Thrawn continued to analyze, his mind far from the cold cell.

 _Pirates throughout the Gamma Quadrant…_

 _Colonists running rampant with powerful weapons in the Alpha Quadrant… the Maquis terrorists among them._

 _Utori bankrupting itself, the local currency, usable throughout the Gamma Quadrant vanishing... with a new currency implemented… perhaps now funding the pirates, not lost after all, but why? Who? How?_

 _Could it be? Could it ALL be connected?_

 _Unbelievably clever… if true. Unprovable._

Thrawn's jaw set, a flash of anger.

 _So… that is where my Bounty Hunter's have gone. My on the ground intelligence apparatus deconstructed at the lowest level._

Then. Then it hit him.

 _The Metallurgical Guild on Nexus 7 attacked our facilities. They cut communication. Wished to build their OWN fleet…_

 _They stole superlaser and hypermatter reactor blueprints..._

Thrawn could feel a slight flutter of frustration welling up, the puzzle felt immense, impossibly large.

"You-" the rest of Shunor's words were indecipherable, exhaustion taking them from her lips. Thrawn turned and glared at her, his red eyes boring, calculating, perceiving.

 _One small cog in a massive machine. Not on a scale the Empire has ever seen. The Rebels would be lucky to maintain such an operation. But who? Who… could run such a group in a galaxy not connected. Not organized… How are they moving between our Galaxies? How?!_

Thrawn moved closer to Shunor and bent down yet again, this time almost nose to nose.

"What organization do you belong to? Is it the Maquis? The Metrons? The-"

Thrawn now stood up straight as an arrow.

 _The woman… Cienna. She mentioned the Dalek's. She said they created this situation, the temporal rifts… wormholes… yes… perhaps…_

"Do you work for the Dalek's?" Thrawn reached violently towards Shunor's throat and started to squeeze, patience having expired in his overreaching mind. She coughed, wheezed and spat blood.

"I don't know...no one knows anything. We do small bits of work, get paid."

Thrawn grabbed a guard by the arm and directed his orders,

"Hook her up to the mind scanner, I do not know if it will work, but bring me a detailed report. Then. If she survives… inform Lord Maul."

Shunor's boots dragged along the floor as she was pulled out of the room, never to be seen again.

Briskly leaving the detention cell, Thrawn rendezvoused with Captain Needa and ordered a dispatch to the Emperor.

"Inform the Emperor that I believe the entire government structure on Nexus 7 is compromised. That the attack upon our facilities was not a rogue element within their government. See to it that all available information is sent along."

 _I'd need tens of thousands… millions… billions of agents. Someone is INSIDE our very civilization. Morphing it from within._

 _Maybe... I cannot be sure. Yet._

Marching onto the bridge he walked over to his communications officer and asked to be patched through to Admiral Piett.

"Piett here,"

"Admiral, within a day, a small task force from the main Dominion fleet heading towards Earth will break off and engage the Andorian defenses, Starfleet will not assist, prompting more worlds to breakaway. Once the Dominion bombard the planet surface, you are to wipe them out. Have your fleet wait on the Galactic Rim on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant."

"Acknowledged."

Thrawn shut off the communicator and laid his eyes towards the 3D holographic display. The Dominion attack fleet approaching Betazed was only minutes away. He readied his relay devices and prepared for the attack. Probe droids scattered throughout the system showed a sizeable Starfleet presence, but he could handle them.

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Betazed**

Forty-seven ships, remnants of the fleet that joined Kirk in battle within the Demilitarized Zone now waited on high alert. The Dominion fleet numbered slightly more, but with the armament of merchant vessels within low orbit, several Starfleet captains felt confident in their ability to defend the planet. For days all available ships raced towards the defense of the telepaths planet. With Federation space spanning such a great distance, not all forces could be brought to bare at any given point within a moments notice. Now, sensors beeped and officers reported to their commanders the makeup of the approaching attack force; the battle was upon them.

Suddenly.

A flash of light and torrential outpour of energy filled the surrounding spaceways. The _REBEL_ fleet had emerged from hyperspace right in the path of the oncoming attack force. Immediately turbolaser broadsides erupted outward, smashing into the oncoming Dominion ships still at warp. Like fireworks high above a night sky, explosions without identifiable objects exploded violently. Searing hot bulkheads, thrown from warp, house-sized chunks of cruiser and dreadnaught cascaded into real-space, each in turn vaporized by turbolaser or the now awakening Federation forces.

Pow!...

Pow!...

Pow!...

Like before with the Imperials and Borg, now the turbolasers of the Rebels fired in rhythmic unison, obliterating the relatively lightly armored Dominion. This astonishing turn of events came with a brief message from Captain Kirk, broadcast to the awaiting Federation fleet.

"These alien ships are there at my request... fighting on our side. Trust them, and… good luck. Kirk out."

Somewhere, deep in the Gamma Quadrant, Thrawn barked orders and spew commands into the galactic wide communications array.

The Dominion ships had essentially hit a wall of turbolaser fire, in the opening volley, thirty cruisers vaporizing instantly. Breaking off into various directions, the remaining force attempted to circumvent the sluggish Rebel cruisers and command ships. Whatever measure of defensive weaponry managed to be installed in such short order erupted from the planet surface, trying to hit any ship able to slip through. From the ground, the space battle could be viewed as flashes of light high above, and every so often a ground-based phaser would streak upward followed by an explosion.

Despite the initial pulverization of the Dominion fleet, three-dozen surviving ships broke into two separate groups, each heading in opposite directions around the equator. The slower Rebel ships heaved themselves towards one of the splitting fleets, Starfleet chasing the other. All the while, to the dismay of the Federation and Rebels, the Dominion ships fired continuously at the planet surface, completely ignoring the protective vessels.

Han Solo firmly held the controls of the Millennium Falcon as a polaron beam slashed dangerously close to his ship.

"Looks like they are after the planet, do they not have planetary shields?"

"It appears the Federation alliance does not have such forms of defensive protection" noted C3P0 from the rear seat. Far below on the planet surface, flashes of light caught the eye of Chewie who murmured something to Solo.

"Ya I see them, I see them. Looks like they are targeting the cities."

Every second, polaron beams and torpedoes smacked into population centers of Betazed. Buildings, thousands of meters tall melted under the tremendous impact of weaponry designed to bring down the shields of starships.

Despite the dramatic visual, the damage being done looked far worse than one might believe. Starfleet had ordered the evacuation of all cities, a tremendous movement of citizens across the entire planet. Now as the Dominion rained down a steady dose of devastation, Betazoids watched from the countryside as their cities erupted into fireballs ten kilometers across.

Thrawn's attack had been substantially thwarted by the unexpected Rebel fleet, but the crafty Grand Admiral was alert at the helm, dispensing orders to his ravaged and shrinking fleet. He could not fail. Betazed must die.

"Alert. Picking up incoming ships 232 mark 7," came the update from the Rebel command ship, Home One. Han looked down at his own display and noticed four incoming Dominion ships, they had been hiding behind an outer Moon and now approached at high warp.

"They are heading towards the back of the planet, I don't think they have as many ground-based weapons there." His assessment was correct. On the far side of the planet, loomed the Supervolcano Manuush, the tallest mountain in the entire Federation. Standing more than thirty-three kilometers, it dwarfed the surrounding continental features. Dormant for fifty million years, it served as a tourist site for millions of visitors yearly. But, far below, lay a cauldron of magma, trillions of tons of undisturbed planet shaping liquid rock.

Twenty Federation ships peeled off from the fleet and headed quickly towards the far side of the planet, desperately trying to reach their defensive position before the incoming Dominion ships came out of warp.

They never did.

Blinding light, the likes never before seen outside of a supernova, quietly and eerily filled the visual spectrum. At this unprecedented scale, the fireball slowly expanded outward from the surface of the planet. All four Dominion ships had plowed headfirst into the side of the Supervolcano, their cargo-holds full of high-explosive warheads. The precise energy involved in this destructive kamikaze is not known, but what remained was a ghastly sight. Continental fault lines directly beneath the volcano cracked, magma far below allowed a conduit for release. Now dozens of millions of years of pressure billowed upward. Seismic vibrations rippled outward for thousands of kilometers, rock liquefied under the tremendous pressure and city buildings toppled like matchsticks. Caves and valley's harboring Betazoid citizens collapsed and throttled wildly, devastation engulfed Betazed.

Far above the battle ended, with few losses the Federation in any other circumstance, would consider the space-battle a success; but the mission failed. BILLIONS of Betazoid's had perished, with millions and perhaps billions more suffering and starving. With no worldwide power grid due to the cataclysmic earthquakes and apocalyptic ejecta from the Dominion ship impacts, starvation would soon take hold.

But not ALL lives had perished, millions remained alive, gathering whatever resources available to make due as the planet transformed around them. Thanks to the Rebel fleet, the planetary bombardment had failed.

The Betazoid race lived.

Barely…


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

The Metron's Unknown Unknowns

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Metron Home World**

A man draped in a glimmering silver toga, one resembling a Roman Senator in Earth's ancient history stood at the center of a ring of similar looking men. A top his head a crown, indicating his rank among the Metron people. This pale skin and soft complexion suggested an age of no more than twenty. This Metron, who in fact is thousands of years old, the same who had spoken to Kirk after his dramatic fight with the Gorn held the rank of Elected Leader. Nothing of significance or interest furnished the large room, whose dome ceiling rose hundreds of feet into the air. Everything was white, with lights illuminating from the walls and floor. The bland room correctly representing Metron society.

Years of isolationist ideology and non-interference had brought a focused and settled temperament, until that is, the Dalek's attack.

"Metron citizens. Members of our planetary community. The heinous attack upon us cannot go unpunished. The savages who did so are undoubtedly the Dalek's, the Borg being nothing more than their puppets."

The ring of similar looking Metrons, all genderless, all biologically engineered, nodded their heads in agreement. Within their once secure solar system, planets once teeming with life now floated with the solar wind as atoms. Never in the Metron's history had they experienced an attack. In fact, never in Metron history had any member of their race been killed.

The following conversation is among the leadership ring; who is speaking is unimportant.

"This tragedy cannot go unpunished."

"We can reform the planets, but the life on it, that will take time to build. Our citizen clone generators were also destroyed, their patterns are forever lost."

"Even their thoughts are lost to us now, we cannot retrieve them from our network."

"We need help in finding the Dalek's. Our efforts up to this point have been unsuccessful. Our probes are searching, but, time is not on our side. Another attack is likely."

"We need to unite the Galaxy. This petty war between the Imperials and smaller races must end."

"Yes."

"We shall end it Immediately."

"Are our defenses back online?"

"Yes, we have reformed the power emitters. But only on our home planet. We cannot predict the next form of attack."

"We are to coordinate with the Melkotians. Their telepathic ability may become useful, especially if we are to capture the Dalek's alive."

"Set defensive barriers to maximum. Set probes to defensive priority."

"The Dalek's are anti-life."

"Once this is complete and the Dalek's are destroyed, we need to address the Imperial ambitions. What has occurred inside the Alpha Quadrant shocks the consciousness of this circle."

"We will fix everything."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Andoria**

Ex-Federation Council Member Ubino watched ships of all sort approach the city of Val-Klaxin. His pale blue skin and large insect antenna the most apparent difference between himself and an average human. High above in his office tower, he counted the hundreds, perhaps thousands of ships coming in from orbit to land and upgrade their systems. The city of Val-Klaxin, once designated a primary production center for Starfleet now served the Andorian people. Ships, weapons, and other machines of war rolled, rattled, and assembled on production lines as far as the eye could see.

Sipping an expensive drink from his cup, Ubino's gold wristband clattered gently against the delicate glass. He took a moment to study it. Made from gold-pressed-latinum, it perfectly matched his necklace and rings he openly displayed. His office tower, once one of many in the government's inventory now belonged solely to him. Power, wealth, control, all came effortlessly. Andorian women once finding him repulsive, flocked to him, his aura of invincibility and staggering wealth insatiable.

Not surprising, his new power brought others to seek their own, to carve something out of the socialist government. Everything was changing.

A small screech from the rearranging desks interrupted his thoughts and he turned to see a laborer placing the final gold-encrusted chair beside his new sleek conference table.

"Is the furniture as you like it sir?"

Ubino almost felt insulted that such a lowly peasant would dare speak to him,

"Be gone."

The laborer, which he had never seen previous, and perhaps never again, bowed. But instead of leaving, he walked over to Ubino and extended his hand.

"As you wish, peace be with you." Ubino's eyes flashed in anger but in the back of his brain, he knew. Slowly offering his own hand, he shook the peasants. Ubino smiled as the worker walked off, not saying a word. A piece of paper had been delivered to him, passed from the palm of the peasant into his.

A small flutter, a trace of nervousness crawled along his spine. Taking a deep breath, he unraveled the tiny note. It read:

[[

-Make your speech

-Ensure to emphasize that Andoria will not retreat, and that you will defeat all invaders

-Leave four bars of gold-pressed-latinum in room 622 in Chacar Building at 19:00 hours behind the blue couch. Do not be late. Do not be early.

-Send forty transports capable of at least warp 6 to coordinate 232 / 32 / 88, inform only Judicial Judge Hilo of this. Ensure their cargo holds are empty, but set transponders to indicate medical supplies for Betazed. Autopilot only, no Andorians aboard. Do not file a flight path.

]]

Ubino crumpled the paper and placed it in a glass of water. He watched slowly as the paper molecules became unglued and after a dozen seconds, nothing remained but a thin layer of floating foam on the surface. Picking up the glass, he gently swayed the water, the last of the paper molecules disappearing completely. Downing the water with a slight gag, he called for his assistant.

"Contact as many journalists as you can. Tell them I am to make a planet-wide broadcast."

Soon after, jeering and cheering crowds filled Ubino's ears as he walked up the steps to the raised podium. Situated in a park overlooking the industrial center of Val-Klaxin, his home city. The city where almost a year ago he was only a mayor. _Now I am the most powerful Andorian alive._ Ubino's swagger extended to his small entourage of 'yes men' each supremely sure of their bosses potential. Ubino had brought them freedom. Power.

Upon reaching the podium he looked out into the sea of blue-skinned faces, their antennas each twitching and waiting for his words.

"Citizens of Val-Klaxin, citizens of Andoria, hear me!" The broadcast did not just span the globe, but to key worlds within the Federation, some yet unwilling to make the final leap. "As all of you now know, we are no longer part of the Federation, no longer part of the system," more cheers. "We left, together. We voted together. We made a decision, together!" Ubino pointed to a large sign at the entrance to the nearest factory, "... That symbol is one of oppression. You, you there standing near it." Ubino pointed to a cluster of workers standing near the Federation symbol attached to a sign. "Tear it down. Grab it, rip it off!"

Heads spun as if on swivels, and the roaring crowd shouted in exuberance. After a minute, the large sign lay trashed in the park, wrecked, pulled apart.

"Excellent! For too long we were held down. Endlessly building ships for a navy that never protected us, never fought FOR us! That time is over. We. We the Andorian people will build for ourselves, build for OUR needs, OUR people!" Pointing high into the sky, with more ships swooping in and landing far and wide, "Those. Those ships are going to liberate us. We must work hard. We must work diligently, for an enemy approaches. Not long ago, Betazed was attacked by a Dominion fleet. Their people completely annihilated. Imagine. Betazoid, a Federation member longer than almost any other was NOT protected!"

Boos and dirty words hurled forward, no love remained for the Federation. With a steady diet of fake-news, the population needed a savior. In Ubino, they believed they found one.

"We have friends and allies. The Federation made it seem like we were alone, isolated if we left. But we will be ok. The enemy approaches, and we will stand. We. Will. Fight! Andoria forever!" Ubino raised his fist into the air, the crowd's elation, immeasurable.

Ubino's starting and stopping style of speech may or may not have reminded some onlookers of another's, but perhaps one could easily look too deep.

Or not deep enough.

Ubino ended his speech and walked down the steps, shaking hands with other political players. As he crossed the threshold back into his building, he remembered crafting the speech, and just a moment ago addressing the crowd, he felt like his own man. His own boss. Although he had to admit, he had never composed such a great speech, never inspired a crowd to that level before.

 _Damn I am good._

A mind can believe whatever it is made to believe.

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Federation Space**

Nine-hundred and twenty-six Dominion ships of differing classes sped towards Earth. At maximum warp only several weeks remained until they would reach their target. Total and utter planetary bombardment their sole mission. The 'Founders' demanding no survivors.

No Federation fleet could oppose them, their numbers and strength far beyond the remaining Starfleet navy. Any incoming fleet of substantially smaller number would be swatted like an insect, and so they traveled unopposed. Ignoring outer worlds and hundreds of hails for negotiation, the attack force sped onward, impervious to pleas from Starfleet Command.

Nothing could stop them.

Until now.

Ahead of the fleet, energy rippled outward, bursting from the subspace realm and flowing into real space. A ten-kilometer Metron probe of pure white energy emerged.

Instantly, a dampening field of incredible power cascaded over all the Dominion ships and like the Enterprise and Gorn vessel of the past, the entire fleet started to slow down. From behind, top, and below, three more Metron Probes emerged into real space, all projecting their dampening fields.

No one is entirely sure if the Metron's warned the panicking Vorta administrators of their doom, but what came next is indisputable. One by one, and in some cases in clustered groups, the Dominion ships exploded into their component molecules from torrential Metron energy discharges.

The Dominion attack fleet was no more. Wiped from existence without a returning shot fired, their energy fields drained, power systems snuffed out.

All across the Alpha Quadrant, Dominion ships were targeted and destroyed. Shipyards pumping out cruisers and dreadnaughts in Cardassian territory exploded in the same fashion. Hundreds of probes were cropping up all over the quadrant, in rare cases a ground installation or lucky Dominion ship managed to squeeze off a shot before they melted away into atoms.

Thrawn's plan of invasion by proxy ended. The Dominion navy no longer existed, anywhere.

 **Imperial Galaxy - Unknown Location**

Teemar's boot pressed harder against the throat of the struggling Imperial Spy. The fat Romulan's forehead a sweaty mess of fat-creases and dirt.

"Tell us again Melkcom, what is your mission?" Gasps and desperate spasms the only response from the spy laying on his back. Teemar released the pressure a little to allow for an answer.

"I was supposed to try and figure out where the drugs were coming from," gasped Melkcom, a humanoid Imperial spy. His face a bloodied and tortured mess, beaten mercilessly by Teemar's goons.

"Oh," Teemar chuckled, his fat belly jiggling as he looked at his men lining the room. "Oh and, um, who did you tell?"

Shaking his head furiously from side to side, the spy denied any communication between himself and superiors, but Teemar suspected otherwise. He signaled to his right-hand man, a short but sturdy looking Ferrengi. The door hissed open; another humanoid fell into the room, hit in the small of the back with a rifle. Melkcom strained his head to see, his eyes betraying him.

"Ah see, I knew it. This is your superior officer eh? Hehe." Teemar pulled a clear vial from his pocket containing a purple crystal liquid. "This is Thionite, most potent drug in existence, It's what your searching for, and wondering, where can I find the providers… right? Well you found me."

He popped the top off the vial with his thumb, beneath the rubber top were two holes with a small button. Bending down he shoved the vial below the nostril of the spy and pressed down gently on the button. One hole opened, representing half the container, the crystal liquid shot into the Imperial's nose. Teemar lifted his boot grinning ear to ear. Almost immediately, Melkcom spasmed and tensed, his entire body experiencing an overwhelming ecstasy. In the spy's mind, all things were possible, visions always unclear seemed clear, his very dreams having been experienced first hand. It is not possible to accurately write and describe the phenomenal and overwhelming experience that Thionite brings, but let it just be known, there is no equal.

After ten minutes, the spy's spasms stopped and he lay exhausted on the floor, his body covered in sweat. Teemar snickered and stalked over to the other man,

"Don't worry, I'm not going to give you any, your subordinate is mine now you see? For the rest of his life, only one thing will consume his actions. To obtain more Thionite. He'll murder, steal, bribe, spy… anything I want. So where does that leave you? Well… let's see. How many men do you control? How many report to you?"

The spy commander now standing, swayed on his feet, unsure of how to act. Major Jammal Craw and his team had been assigned to infiltrate a drug smuggling ring on the frontier worlds, only to be compromised last night.

"Fourteen," he replied hesitantly.

"Fourteen. I see. How would you like to control two planets worth of people?"

Major Craw arched his head back and laughed,

"I'd never betray the Empire! You think your small band of misfits can take on the galaxy?" Craw laughed again.

Teemar raised a finger and waved it back and forth, like a parent scolding a small child.

"Are you sure?" The door opened and this time, instead of another spy being brought in, a dozen scantily clad women walked into the room, each dazzling their eyes in the direction of the Major. One stopped beside Teemar and planted a soft kiss on his cheek before moving towards the far wall. Major Craw watched the girls carefully, their eyes blurred and glassy, apparently at one point under the influence of the toxic and unbelievably potent Thionite. Teemar winked at the spy commander before continuing.

"I need you to run Tatooine and-"

"Tatooine? The Hutt's control Tatooine."

A small chuckle escaped the Romulans humungous gut.

"Not for long, I need you to control the Hutt's. Then, I need you to manufacture or steal seven hundred class-four hyperdrives. That's your mission. By my estimates you'll need ten or twenty thousand men."

An incredulous look overcame the Major, he was so taken back by the proposal he did not know how to react. On the floor, his subordinate Melkcom stirred to his knees, he held his head with both hands trying to balance himself. Kneeling down beside him, Teemar placed another vial into the trembling palm of the now hopeless drug addict.

"Listen to me Melkcom. You see this vial? You can have as many as you'd like. But. Before you do, I need you to gather one-thousand followers. I don't care what you do to get them, start a business, start a small criminal syndicate. That doesn't matter to me. Once you have a thousand to control, then you will obtain more Thionite. Here," Teemar pointed to a box in the corner, "... that box contains about twenty-seven type six navigation computers, you can sell those to get started and collect Imperial credits. You have four months."

Teemar snatched the vial back as Melkcom struggled to his feet and scampered towards the door; his life forever changed. Kids, wife, family, no longer mattered. Thionite now controlled his actions. But Teemar was not done with him, yet.

"Melkcom," the spy turned his head just as he was about to exit only to see an elephant-sized fist heading towards his face. The fat Romulan had thrown a haymaker, connecting squarely on the jaw of the still dazed Imperial. Despite Teemar's relatively slow speed, the massive bulk of the Romulan delivered devastating kinetic energy. Melkcom's head snapped sideways with a loud crack, his head hitting the wall like a battering ram. Then, to the surprise of Major Craw whose mouth lay agape, Teemar landed a tremendous kick, both in intensity and power into the chest of Melkcom. The impact carried so much force thanks in part to Teemar's weight the spy smashed straight through the door, tearing them off their rollers and crashing to the ground outside. Teemar's goons, women, and Major Craw followed the obese Romulan out the door, watching the entertainment unfold.

Laying on the ground, floundering to regain his composure and balance, was Melkcom. Spitting a glob of blood onto the dusty desert ground, he had a concussion, and perhaps worse. The small shack they had occupied looked like a bomb had gone off within, the doors laying several feet away. As Teemar exited, he pinched the end of his nose and flicked away whatever snot dribbled out. The Romulan lumbered forward, cocky, competent.

"Wha..what?" Melkcom still had no idea what was happening, or why.

"Now now Melkcom, I just wanted you and your Major to know that I control you. And no matter what I do to you… you will always be mine. Forever and ever." The Romulan's size fourteen boot came to a loud stomp a dozen feet away from the dazzed spy.

Melkcom wiped the blood from his mouth, his face contorting in rage, he scampered up and ran towards the colossal Romulan.

"Never!" Swinging with everything he had, for everything he knew he lost, his fist aimed for the bowling ball sized head. Only to never connect.

Teemar caught the fist in mid-air, squeezing it with his catcher's mitt palm. Melkcom pushed with everything he had, his feet digging and slipping in the dirt. But the Romulan was too strong, too big. Teemar grinned cruelly, his white teeth glimmering, his eyes focused. Both men stood face to face, Melkcom's one of rage, his opponent one of amusement and absolute confidence. Melkcom Wagner began to scream as he pushed his fist forward, trying to break the will of the Romulan; but it was not to be. With herculean strength, Teemar smashed Melkcom's fist back at his OWN face. The spy's head snapped back stunned, his nose exploding in blood. A digging and savage hook to the body then brought the Imperial spy to his knees.

"You are nothing to me. You must have more. I just took your life. Everything you cherish. Everything you hold dear!""

Melkcom held his ribs, they were broken, snapped like toothpicks. But he did not want to go down like this, he had to fight. He stood again, throwing another wild fist, only this time Teemar blocked it with his forearm, then drove his elbow like a pile driver into the shorter spy's neck.

Thud!

Melkcom collapsed, barely conscious, in pain, and utterly exhausted. Teemar looked back over his shoulder at Major Craw.

"You'd think a man beaten, smashed into bits would not do this, watch." Reaching into his pocket, he opened the top of another vial of Thionite and squirted some onto the toe of his mud-covered boots. Immediately Melkcom dropped to his stomach and started to feverishly lick it off. After a minute Teemar kicked Malkcom in the face and walked back towards Major Craw and elaborated.

"I could inject you with this stuff, you'd be my slave. But I need your head a bit more clear, a bit more alert. I'll give you access to the drug if you wish to use it for your own control purposes. It's up to you, but the power I now have over Melkcom, you would have over worlds. Power! Power! Power!" Shouted Teemar with a big chuckle. He wiped away some sweat that accumulated during the beating he administered. Major Craw looked over the shoulder of Teemar, he saw his spy spasming on the ground from the Thionite, sand, dirt, and blood covering his mouth. Teemar followed his gaze and continued his one-way conversation. "He can't kill me, do you know why?" Craw did not answer, "... because if he does, he can't get more Thionite, because he does not know how to produce it. See? See how easy it is to control with such a powerful and irresistible drug? It's great for grunts and the like..."

A small beeping alert went off on the beltline of Teemar, he looked down for a moment and pressed a button. The ultra-wave transceiver read,

[[Meeting]]

Obediently, Teemar pressed another button on his belt and waited. With his thought-screen lowered, he waited. Then within his mind he heard the familiar voice, the same that spoke to him during his visit to the Rebels and visited him in the asteroid production facility in the Milky Way.

"There is trouble. We believe an experienced telepath is loose within the Galaxy."

Teemar was not surprised, he figured the thought-screen he had been given was for some useful purpose.

"Is that who killed my contact on Outland Transit Station? She was good, gave me a lot of info from Kuat."

"We have not verified, that assumption is logical. Did you inform her to always keep her thought-screen up?"

"Always… just like me."

"Good. Instruct your contacts on Coruscant to spread into their power facilities. How many are working as of now?"

"I have six teams, and I don't know how many below them, like you said, we spread organically. I'd say… maybe fifty-thousand. Tops."

"Your attack upon the Death Star facility was satisfactory. What is the current production rate of hypermatter?"

"We are having trouble aligning the magnetic fields, but once we get those right, about ten tons a month."

"Very good. I am now hereby ordering you to coordinates 0 by 0 by 0 within the Milky Way Galaxy. Leave immediately."

Teemar thought for a moment before replying,

"That's the galactic center, what am I doing there?"

"Negotiating."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Federation Space - Enterprise**

Captain Kirk, Scotty, McCoy, Cienna, Kimball Kinnison, and Luke sat around the conference table listening to Spock finish his debriefing of all the latest news.

"The Metron's have single-handedly destroyed the Dominion attack force. Reports coming in throughout Federation space, all ships seemingly are gone."

Kirk could not help but smile, he leaned back in his chair almost exhausted. His gamble had worked, despite abandoning early engagements with the Dominion, his quest to find help ultimately paid off.

"That is excellent news. What else Spock?"

"Starfleet has successfully installed hyperspace gravity generators around Earth, no Imperial probes or ships can enter that system without being forced into real space. Thanks to the intact probe droid provided by the Metron's, myself, Cienna and several engineers were able to develop them. Director Sloan, who headed the project for mass production is in critical condition. I do not know if that will ultimately delay their production across all worlds."

Kirk's eyes narrowed, Kinnison suspected Sloan of perhaps working with the Dalek's, but nothing had been proven. With so much time having passed since Kinnison had visited Earth, many things could have changed.

"Yes… we cannot be too sure of him."

"Commander Data's total assessment of all readily available-" Spock was cut off by Bones,

"Good god, just skip to the good parts, would ya?"

Raising an eyebrow and receiving a few chuckles, Spock continued,

"Reports of widespread destabilization efforts are ongoing. I believe, this is Boskone based on Mr. Kinnison's reports."

Kinnison nodded,

"Yes agreed. The Empire had thousands of spies, bounty hunters, and changelings working for them, but, now that I know Boskone is around, I'm not sure how much was the Empire and how much is Boskone. I suppose both."

Cienna's eyes were closed, trying to listen and think at the same time. She offered a theory,

"Could it be Boskone is controlled by the Daleks?"

Kimball shook his head slowly, unsure if it were possible.

"Tough to say, everything screwy started happening after the Dalek Time Destroyer went off. It could be. Sure."

Kirk tapped his forefinger on the table, emphasizing his next point.

"Speaking of the Dalek's, we need a weapon able to destroy them in one fell swoop, Not allowing them to escape and rebuild. It has to be immediate and deadly."

"We need to find the buggers first," noted Bones.

"We'll let the Metron's handle that, their probes can cross the galaxy in a matter of weeks by our estimates. But when the time comes, we'll need something as well. We'll have to throw everything at them at once, all races."

The Captain's plan seemed reasonable to everyone, but a small point still frustrated Kinnison. Boskone.

"You know, it doesn't make a lot of sense for the Dalek's to control Boskone. It seems like a lot of effort just to eventually kill them all. The Ploorians, or… I guess whoever controlled them wanted control, power. That's all it was ever about, power and control. The Dalek's want to kill everything. I don't see how those two ideologies would work together. Something is off. Something doesn't make sense."

Spock nodded in agreement,

"Your analysis is very logical, I agree that we are missing critical information."

Kirk stared at the conference table, his eyes circling a problem in his mind. _The weapon would need to be totally secret, totally unprecedented._

"What I say now does not leave this room." Everyone shuffled in their seats, uncertain as what came next. "The weapon must be totally and utterly destructive. And. A complete secret. We know the Dalek is capable of subversion. If Boskone is controlled by them, then any slips, any chances of them discovering what we are building could lead to disaster."

"Captain," started Spock. "We will reach Earth in only a few days. It is logical that the Empire will try and stop us. They must know we have not broadcast the truth of the situation to member worlds. The Rebel fleet has now made it clear they are on our side, I believe they will attack us."

Luke who sat quietly, taking it all in, agreed with this assessment.

"The Empire is bent on control, either with their military or politically. And if the Dominion is now gone…"

Kirk finished the thought for his new friend,

"Then they are left with but one option…"

Kinnison sighed, rubbing his forehead then tapping his fingers on the table.

"They would put themselves in a jam back in their own galaxy if they picked a fight now that the Dominion are gone. The Cardassians by my measure would join our side. And the Klingons…"

"The Klingons… may have done themselves in," said Kirk, reflecting on the report from Picard to the rest of the fleet. "Cienna," his tone now gentler and familiar. "I have an idea regarding a weapon. Years ago we encountered an inter-dimensional traveler named Lazarus. He's trapped now between universes, but, what if we could recreate the portal… and then shut the door while they are half way in."

Spock raised an eyebrow, thinking things over.

"Fascinating. A device to open a portal between universes, but to modify it to collapse the space. Whomever or whatever would be erased from existence."

"Precisely." Kirk's eyes glowed at the thought. He stood suddenly, leaning on the table, looking at each of his staff and friends. "We will need to build this in total secrecy. Total… isolation."

"May I recommend Commander Data be brought aboard this project, his knowledge and intelligence would be a great benefit," requested Spock.

"Aye, I agree," added Scotty.

"Let's get started."

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dalek Secret Base**

The Supreme Dalek moved its eye stock subtly, looking over the fat Romulan from head-to-toe. An encoded message a few hours ago by way of ultra-wave conveyed the need to meet and talk. The Dalek's had been surprised by its use, not believing anyone had discovered such technology in this galaxy.

"Your brain is INFFEERRRIIOOORR, you could not have developed ultra-wave. Who do you work for?"

Teemar blinked away the nervous sweat running down his eyelids and tried to explain again the circumstances as to how he ended up in this situation. The dark and uninviting station crept with strange oddities. Slaves grown to serve a common purpose stalked about, swaying clumsily and performing their duties as designed. Teemar did not like it, he could not wait to leave.

"I told you, I did not develop ultra-wave, it was given to me. I am under orders. I work for the Maquis. I have been-"

If a Dalek could laugh, it may have.

"The MMMMAQUIS? Improbable. Impossible." As fast as the words were spoken, the Dalek accessed all information ever obtained. The Supreme Dalek knew full well that ultra-wave could not, would not, and had never been discovered or otherwise tested by a rogue terrorist organization.

"Listen," Teemar held his hands in front of him, trying to focus the conversation best he could. "This is what I'm telling you, because this is all I know. Get me?"

Normally such insolence would have been handled with a quick blast of the Dalek energy weapon, but the fact that ultra-wave had been used gave them pause.

"Continue."

"As I was saying, you have a big problem. Your attack on the Metron's failed. And if they were not looking for you before, they sure are now. The Dominion just got smashed to pieces. You're next. It won't be long until they find you, we did."

"Hoooow did you find us? How do you know it was us who attacked?"

"I don't know, I didn't find you myself. I just got orders to come here. That is beside the point. You need our protection."

"In exchange for...?"

"We know your building a weapon, and-"

"You SCANNED our Cherno 44 site?" The ability of ultra-wave to act as both a communication medium and spy-beam had not crossed the Dalek's mind. Counter-measures had been taken but not against such a unique and improbable method.

"Listen, I don't know!" Teemar's frustration once a simmer, now started to boil over. "Stop interrupting me. We protect you. You kill the Q. That's it. Ok? I'm here to tell you this. Got it?"

The Supreme Dalek remained quiet, busy considering all available options. It did not know _how_ the Romulan or his superior's knew of the superweapon, but the battle computer and it's brethren discussed the situation within their information-web.

"Your alliance..."

"Yes…?" Teemar swallowed slowly, his hand reaching for his Delameter pistol.

"Is... DEEENIIIEEEED!"

Quick as a whip, Teemar pulled his pistol! And at the exact same moment, the Supreme Dalek fired.

 **Zap!**

Teemar clutched his chest while screaming in pain, but only for an instant. Falling like a large tree, he crumpled forward, dead. His quickdraw _one-hundredth_ of a second too slow.

Turning in the opposite direction the Supreme Dalek floated over to one of its screens, a new object now entered their sensor array.

"U-N-E-X-P-E-C-T-E-D!"

"Incoming request for transport master," sputtered a human slave.

"Acknowledge. Allow."

Behind the Dalek, two transport beams shimmered into existence. Upon materialization the leader of the arriving guests spoke.

"Teemar… was my best operator," the start-stop nature of speech immediately triggering the Dalek's search mechanisms.

" _ **I-M-P-O-S-S-I-B-L-E!"**_

Quickly the Supreme Dalek spun around, the voiceprint matched perfectly.

Standing twenty feet from the Dalek was mirror-universe-Kirk and mirror-universe-Spock. Each wearing their mirror-universe uniforms, the captain had a scowl on his face. No smile, no smirk. His face a tattered and scarred mess of wounds long healed. A light within the chamber illuminated evil-Kirk's eyes, boring like lasers into the Dalek's eye stock.

"Why don't you try that with someone your own size."


	29. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Cunning of the Enemy

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dalek Secret Base**

Evil-Kirk stood supremely confident, his cocky expression disregarding the threat of the Dalek hoard within the station. Behind him, Evil-Spock scanned the room, his goatee the only noticeable difference between him and his 'good-self' known to _THIS_ universe.

Somehow...

Someway...

The Mirror-Universe that Captain Kirk had visited by accident in his travels now operated here. Polar opposites to everything good and decent by which the Federation is measured, exists within this dimension. Conquest, power, brutality. All unique and ever-present facets of a demented and dangerous place.

Deep chasms of healed wounds drew deep shadows along the Captain's deformed face. One eye only a white semblance of the usual dark and richness to which we are accustomed.

"Revive him," demanded evil-Kirk.

"He C-A-N-N-O-T be revived," replied the Supreme Dalek.

"We'll see…" Evil-Kirk pulled a small metal piece out of his pocket and dropped it on the chest of Teemar. A moment later the fat and dead Romulan disappeared by transporter beam.

Within the armored shell, the Supreme Dalek worked his controls of sensor and analysis, but to the mutants surprise, his scanning beams bounced off a screen a millimeter from both visitors. Not many shields can block the scans of the Dalek's, and this fact, mixed with ultra-wave mastery, gave the Dalek's pause.

"Your personal screens are not of _HUMAN_ design. Identify who you work for."

Ignoring the question, evil-Kirk continued where Teemar finished.

"Let's try this again, you stupid tin can. Either…" he raised his finger into the air, an insidious smirk crossing his face, "you continue your plan and we protect you...or… you die."

"HUMANS do not threaten Daleks!"

"The Metron's threaten you!" Evil-Kirk 'snapped', he thrashed his hands into the air, his manic expression that of madness. "Don't you see you stupid fools. Even now they are recruiting the Melkotians, we just intercepted their transmission for assistance. Tell me. Can you block a telepathic attack?"

A long silence ensued. The Dalek did have such a device, a so-called thought-screen, but it lacked real-world testing. Many months ago the Dalek's had suspected something 'strange' happening within the Federation, their vast reserves of computer power used to isolate inefficiencies in computer updates and strange occurrences. Kinnison 'had' been detected, not as a person, but an anomaly.

"We do not discuss such things with HUMANS."

Evil-Spock stepped forward, speaking to evil-Kirk more than the Daleks.

"Perhaps we should leave the Dalek's to their own devices and withdraw? If they are successful in stopping the telepathic attack we can return."

"Yes. " The captain liked this idea. "Yes. But… not just yet." Evil-Kirk licked his lips and stalked towards the Supreme Dalek. "You are taking too long to produce the components. You're going to run out of time."

"Do not lecture us! We are the Daleks!"

"The Metrons!" Evil-Kirk smashed his fist into the palm of his hand to emphasize the point. "Are going to be here within a month, two at most. Will your components and synthesis be done? No. Not quite."

No response. The Dalek neural-web waited for more information, analyzing all variables to try and determine a course of action. Evil-Kirk was not wrong, and it bothered them.

"This is what I am going to do for you. Watch."

Angrily walking back besides Spock, both men stood and for a moment, seemingly doing nothing. Then, the thick leather wrist bands they fashioned began to glow. Not wristbands of their mirror-universe uniform but of another. Black Lensman.

Their black lenses began to glow ominously, their telepathic power outgoing to unknown regions. Unlike Kinnison who no longer needed the physical lens to complete his telepathic tasks, black lensman had not progressed to such a level. Yet.

"Watch now Supreme Dalek, watch as their world ends."

Evil-Kirk tossed a device into the air, it unfolded rapidly into an immeasurably thin sheet, it flickered and now the Metron planet appeared. It's dull white surface uninspiring, seemingly quiet.

"Consider this... a down payment."

The camera angle, provided by ultra-wave spy beams zoomed out, now the planet seemed small, alone, vulnerable.

Without warning, a massive vortex of energy began to spin, like a giant ocean maelstrom, spinning wildly a million kilometers from the Metron home. With a diameter of ten-thousand miles, it belched and flared. The Daleks knew what they were witnessing, but they did not believe it possible that this universe possessed such technology.

"You have access to hyper-tubes?!" Squealed the Supreme Dalek.

A devilish grin from ear to ear appeared on evil-Kirk's face as he continued his telepathic commands. As the Dalek's looked on, another massive maelstrom opened, then another, then another. In no less than a minute, twenty-seven had opened within Metron space.

Out from the hyperspace-tubes came thousands of ships, like bats from a cave at dusk, spewing outward into real space. Romulan, Pirate, Colonist, Andorian, Ferragni, and many others still unknown made up the Boskone attack fleet.

Immediately, Metron probes emerged from subspace and activated their dampening fields, pushing everything they had into the thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of ships coming out of the inter-dimensional and ultra-fast travel tubes. The ultra-wave picture zoomed in, focusing on a few ships. They began to slow, like a car trying to traverse a field of mud.

"The Metron's have advanced dampening fields," stated the Supreme Dalek.

Ten seconds later, the entire Boskone fleet came to a complete standstill in space, thousands of ships held in a tight grip as more Metron probes joined.

Then.

A faint blue hue, a glow of some sort appeared around the hulls of every Boskone ship. From the blue glows shot out an energy beam towards the planet. These beams were hollow energy tubes, counteracting the powerful dampening fields.

"Captain, Metron planetary defenses charging."

"Got it."

Realizing the danger, the Metron probes released white blasts of energy. Smacking into the Boskone fleet with everything they could muster. And as ships exploded in thermonuclear displays of power, projectiles protected in a blue energy sheath sped mercilessly towards the planet.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

Explosions measured in thousands of megatons vaporized targets on the planet surface. Life, technology, culture, history, all wiped away in a devastating attack. The Circle of Leadership, never before faced with such a threat had no bunker to retreat to, no alternative base to hide in. The leadership died instantly, melted and boiled away into nothingness.

With the planetary defensive beam knocked out, the Boskone fleet now turned their attention to the probes, the blue hue allowing for partial movement. Swarming like locusts, the mixed fleet of many nation states unloaded salvo after salvo of highly focused negative-energy warheads. White energy rippled across the probes surfaces as they faltered against forces never before turned towards them. Massive ships, at least by Alpha Quadrant standards, attempted to entrap the probes with powerful locking beams. Others sliced and diced with pinpoint particle systems. The probes were now fighting a battle for no apparent reason, their race dead, the onboard A.I. system just completing its defensive task without true purpose.

In the Dalek command room, evil-Spock tossed another razor-thin expanding screen into the air. It floated, flickered, then another planet came into view.

"This is Melkot," noted the Vulcan.

"Yes, we KNNOOWWWW,"

"Evidently… home of the Melkotian-"

"Silence. Continue your I-N-F-E-R-I-O-R attack."

Evil-Kirk and evil-Spock exchanged bemused looks; they had been warned about the absurdity of the Dalek mentality. Nevertheless, the Dalek's were dangerous, highly intelligent, and utterly ruthless. Evil-Kirk sent a telepathic thought towards the Supreme Dalek, 'it' hit a rudimentary thought-screen. Like an architect observing a building from across the road, it became easy to spot solid designs against poor ones. The Dalek's design seemed lacking, but evil-Kirk did not want to push it; did not want to reveal his true power. Breaking through the Dalek screen was not a priority. A deal needed to be struck.

"As you know Supreme Dalek. The Melkotian race is highly advanced, keeping to themselves by punishing all intruders. They must also be destroyed," stated evil-Spock as a matter of fact.

On the viewscreen, dozens of hyper-tube maelstroms ripped open the fabric of space and spewed out their contents. Relying on the power of thought to ward off enemies, the Melkotians lacked the necessary firepower to defend themselves against such an attack; only this time, no planetary bombardment commenced.

Inside the tin can that is the Dalek armor, the Supreme Dalek watched as the Boskone fleet swept past the flimsy planetary defenses and moved into the atmosphere.

"You are landing an attack force? Your ships and soldiers can withstand such a telepathic attack?"

"We need soldiers," evil-Kirk barely answered, his attention focused on deploying his forces across Melkot.

Moving like meteors, hundreds of landing ships with engine nozzles the size of large buildings headed towards the surface. Ineffective ground weaponry flashed and illuminated their defensive shields, but it was too little too late. Within a minute, the kilometer long landing ships of unknown origin unloaded their contents. Men, women, and aliens within mechanical armored suits clambered out into the cities, smashing through walls with their five-thousand horsepower outfits. The Melkotians, unable to penetrate the thought-screens, fell swiftly. Their almost entirely brain-bodies, optimized for telepathic attack and telekinetic locomotion died by the thousands. Portable energy projectors the size of small cars wiped out entire buildings with the survivors being rounded up and carted off like cattle into the landing ships. From orbit, cities on the planet burned with fire.

"You captured only a few thousand. What is your plan NOOOOWWWW?"

"The Melkotians will never join us, not on a planetary scale. So... " evil-Kirk relished the next words. "They die."

Transports rose back through the atmosphere like whales breaching the surface of the ocean, and an 'all clear' was given to the Boskone Admirals controlling the large fleets.

"Explosives now ready Captain."

"Detonate"

Like the colonial planet of Epilus who Boskone destroyed to rally the Colonists to their cause against the Cardassians, now Melkot would be handed the same fate. Only here, the devices were not buried, but on the surface. Superatomic warheads, in ranges measured in gigatons, lit up the landscape. With all ships destroyed, there existed no escape for the remaining Melkot aliens. Billions perished in a flash, while only a few thousand prisoners survived, soon to be transformed into weapons. Evil-Kirk knew part of the plan, to deliver the Melkotians to the Andorian transport ships waiting idly in space.

Both floating screens switched off and folded back into their tiny dimensions. Evil-Kirk and evil-Spock's glowing black Lenses dimmed and now both men faced the Dalek group.

"We just destroyed-" 

"YOU did not. Who do you work for? You are just a H-U-M-A-N."

Not wanting to reveal too much, equally, not wanting to reveal he did not know; evil-Kirk thought the question over. His insane, mad-brain running through the scenarios. Despite being from a parallel dimension, he possessed all the intelligence, tactics, wisdom, and cunning of his other self. A force to be reckoned with.

"We… operate on many levels. Political, nefarious, militaristic… we are everywhere. In the Alpha Quadrant, our illegal activities are disguised as the Maquis terrorist organization. Freedom fighters to some. Our political operations are disguised as nationalism. We have many levels, layers, platforms."

"You are operating across the Galaxy," more a statement than a question from the Supreme Dalek.

"Yes."

"Why do you want the Q, D-E-S-T-R-O-Y-E-D?"

"There is a human expression you may know. It's above my pay grade."

"You should NOT be alive. The journey to the mirror-universe is well documented by Captain James T. Kirk. You should have been overthrown upon your return."

Evil-Kirk ran his fingers across his tattered and disfigured face. As he touched individual disfigurements, he remembered the cause for each. His return to the mirror-Enterprise had been met with immediate mutiny. Evil-Spock had tried to overthrow him. First with logic, then when he could not be persuaded, violence. A running battle throughout the ship ensued, and after days of combat, both by hand and weapon, he had won. It had cost him his vision in his right eye and hearing loss in one ear.

"I survived. I am in command. I will always be... in command."

The Supreme Dalek did not like mysteries and unknowns, but the gesture concerning the Metrons and Melkotians could not be ignored. The alliance would prove beneficial, for now.

"We accept the alliance. But WE ARE IN C-O-N-T-R-O-L!"

The black lenses glimmered faintly, telepathic communication ongoing.

With no reply or objection from the visitors, the Supreme Dalek continued,

"We order you deal with the growing virus within Klingon territory. Our scans reveal it to be a danger if allowed to grow."

Spock thoughtfully considered what they knew of the Flood,

"We have already started investigating, we must collect a sample-"

"E-X-T-E-R-M-I-N-A-T-E the infection!"

The two visitors shimmered away, leaving the Supreme Dalek to think, to plan, to prepare.

"Begin synthesis of a biological weapon to counter the plague. We will deploy it on at-risk worlds. Second. Extrapolate all information. Find the leadership of _that_ organization. After the Q die, we will turn our psychic super weapon upon them!"

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Cardassia Prime**

Gul Dukat, leader of the Cardassian Union, anxiously paced the floor of his military command complex. Around him, massive screens displaying various points within his territory and beyond. Analysts glued to their stations called out changes to the scenario unfolding. Klingon ships once pushed to the brink by Dominion forces now sped towards Cardassia Prime. The Cardassian navy, utterly smashed to bits from the endless and relentless Colonists, did not have enough vessels to cover the entire territory from attack. Like the Federation, the Cardassians had to choose.

"Are the orbital defensive batteries ready?"

"Yes sir, fully charged."

Dukat nodded to himself,

 _Maybe that'll slow them down. How can this be? Our last intelligence reports said they committed mass genocide… And why are they flying merchant ships at us? Are they that desperate? We need more protection…_

"Has Cardassia Beta responded to our request for reinforcements?"

Dukat's Secretary of State swallowed hard and rushed over to whisper,

"Sir… they are not sending reinforcements. They are dealing with planetary riots. Now they say they need to defend themselves…" The white's of Dukat's eyes seemed to expand outward,

 _They were our last hope…_

Riots in the outlying and fringe regions of Cardassian control spread like wildfire, seemingly coming out of nowhere only a few short weeks ago. Entire government bodies locked their horns with protestors flooding the world capitals. No one, including the government, seemed to know what drew everyone together, or what precisely they were rioting for. Chaos, unfettered and unreasonable demands, came from all angles and manner of institution.

 _It's as if my people are being driven insane._

"Gul," a Cardassian word for 'leader' "... Klingon ships coming into range. Your orders?"

"Fire at will."

Above the planet, bursts of overloading warp cores cascaded down, causing radiant energy to create auroras in the upper ionosphere. Great purple and green streaks of changing atmosphere would on any other occasion seem pretty. But the citizens of the planet ran in terror, the war had come to Cardassia Prime. Ground installations launched salvo's of energized torpedoes and disruptor beams. The Klingon merchant ships kamikazed into anything they could ram, debris not vaporized rained down like fire.

"Gul! I don't think the Klingon's are even trying to engage our forces. They are trying to land."

"Are the transporter scramblers on?"

"Full power!"

Zip!

Zip!

Zip!

Disruptors continued to lace upward, hitting targets thousands of kilometers away.

"A Klingon merchant ship just hit the Sea of Takata, it broke up on the way down. Tuparo city has been hit! They tried to land, we got it though!" More shouts and reports poured in, but the next announcement stopped everyone in their tracks.

"What the... our orbital platforms are turning towards the surface!"

Dukat scrambled over to the analyst station and blinked in disbelief. The computer appeared to be making its own decisions, turning the platforms inward.

"Transporter scramblers being targeted. And this facility-"

The room jumped from a moderate twenty-two degrees Celsius to a sweltering billion degrees in less than a microsecond. A planet defense platform, designed to attack inbound enemies, suddenly and unexpectedly opened fire into the heart of Cardassian government. A crator four miles across replaced the nerve center of the Cardassian military. Unknown to the fateful commanders, their computer's logic analysis had been compromised. Using mysterious methods, the Gravemind preyed upon the hopeless and helpless computer A.I systems. Not fully understood, the Logic Plague spread from network to network, infecting and turning creations on creators. For what could not be consumed would be converted.

Cardassia, without a functioning government, fell within hours. Landing ships and transporter loosed the Flood onto the planet. Deep within the ocean, ecosystems morphed, cities panicked, and people fell. By the billions the citizens of Cardassia Prime were consumed by the Shaping Sickness, the Flood, the ultimate plague. Children, mothers, fathers, pets, livestock, plants, trees, all morphed into vile creatures, or turned to a syrup liquid that moved throughout the cities. What could be consumed joined the Gravemind; their memories, thoughts and prayers not lost, but used. Filtered, sifted, pulped. Compromised computer systems hummed at peak efficiency, joining the collective network of mind and machine. And as the planet changed, ships piloted by Flood minions departed for more worlds. A single Flood spore could bring the end to a world within a matter of days.

On Kronos, hidden beneath the ground far from sunlight, the mile-long glob of Klingon and alien flesh sent a message to its child. It's desperate offspring.

 _James T. Kirk. The human race shall be saved. Just as you wished. Just as you pleaded. Merge with me, and you will learn_

"Who is this? Identify..."

 _Do you not recognize my thoughts?_

"... Creator…"

 _I am the Gravemind. I am your savior. All will become as they were. Together with me. Only humanity shall remain._


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Fake News and Virus Spreads

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Cardassia Beta**

Blistering and continuous booms and blasts rocked the outlying city of Mal Notta, the capital city of the second most populous planet within the Cardassian Union. Hours ago, a fleet of Klingon warships infected with Flood mutations transported themselves onto the surface just before their destruction. With the attacking ships destroyed, the planetary defensive teams erroneously had thought the battle over. They were wrong.

What started as hundreds of Flood forms, now numbered in the millions. Spreading across the planet by land, air, and sea; all biological material converted into Flood Super Cells. Trees and bush uprooted and in a slow slumber, walked towards urban areas in search of living beings to infect. Military and national guard units sprang into action but as the Flood consumed, it grew in number. While the defensive army shrank with each death or plague-ridden injury.

"Begin bombarding the planet, incinerate the crust in all areas save major population centers." Ordered Commander Haloxin, a grizzly looking Cardassian. His thin and etched face indicative of battles waged. On his wrist glowed a black Lens, it throbbed and ebbed as telepathic commands were sent to various military commanders across the planet.

Armories everywhere raced at furious speed to unload and move weapons to the front lines, if there existed such a thing. Unlike a usual army which gathers and prods defensive positions, the Flood infect on a global scale - Pets, birds, insects. Within hours, large spore mounds hundreds of feet high began spewing toxic fumes into the atmosphere, allowing the winds to carry the deadly infection unchallenged. Citizens who inhaled the spores would start to mutate within minutes, causing chaos in the rear positions.

"We are overrun, we cannot stop the infection!" Screamed Commander Haloxin telepathically to his Boskone superior.

"Then you die, and deservedly so. We warned you of the threat, warned you of the danger. No reinforcements will be sent. There is nothing to fight for now. Nothing to save. No people to rule, no world to conquer. The ecosystem is already dead."

"The Colonists are only a few hours away along the border, they can-"

"They are MINE to control! Not yours! You die, and if you do not, I will kill you myself for incompetence. Your orbital fleet is to be recalled shortly. I cannot lose them as foolishly as you have lost your planet. Kirk out."

Haloxic winced in pain as evil-Kirk snapped the telepathic line shut. He sat fuming, but he knew he had to fight, he did not want to die a coward, nor a fool. Gathering his energy, more telepathic commands instructed his forces to hold on for dear life.

Mechanical armored suits glistening with firepower, sprayed 'duodec' explosive shells by the thousand per minute. What can only be seen, not described, exploded in bombastic eruptions of color and fire around metropolitans. Rays of energy hot enough to melt meters of steel shone like blazing suns. And as the Flood melted and vaporized, more came. Converted animal and citizen slid, pulsed, and oozed their way forward. In some cases, local transports piloted by Flood creatures flew kamikaze missions into fortified Boskone positions. Only to spill out in the wreckage and continue the infection; clawing and scratching their way through the lines of infantry and conscripted Cardassian citizens. From high above, super-atomic warheads blew apart continents like they were made of paper, but as they exploded, Flood spores floated through the air and caused more conversions.

"Commander, we have lost our rear defensive lines, the plague has turned our own soldiers against us. We fight our own army! And more ships are reported incoming, all plague ships! Our transporters are not operational, something is wrong, something is shutting off the computer systems!" Shouted a panicking Boskone officer, newly recruited from within a diplomatic detail on Cardassia Prime a few weeks ago.

"It does not matter, our ships are about to depart."

The commanding officer walked into a larger room and climbed up into his mechanical suit, it hissed and groaned as the ten-thousand horsepower engine of destruction came online. A shield flickered to life, and he raised both arms to inspect the weapon systems.

"Fight until you die, goodbye."

The room exploded outward as the machine blasted through it, debris raining down and collapsing into a dust cloud. Commander Haloxic ran at full speed towards the city's edge and disappeared into the thundering noise and dust of their final stand.

After an hour, just before the withdrawal of the Cardassian warships in orbit; they turned their armament towards the last bastions of unscorched surface. The cities melted away and all life, citizen, Boskone, and Flood, perished in nuclear fire.

 **Imperial Galaxy - Nexus 7**

Rain droplets the size of marbles attacked and streaked down the impressive floor to ceiling windows of the Presidential suite. Darth Vader illuminated by life-like lightning cast a long shadow across the floor. The dark lord looked down to the street below, where stormtroopers frantically raced forward to take-up positions across from the approaching demonstrators.

"I will give you one last chance President Boolbah. Who approached you with the idea to attack our Death Star installation?" Vader's voice rumbled throughout the room, to his back, kneeling in the center was President Boolbah, a Nexican. Around the president lay the remains of his government circle, chopped into pieces by Vader's deadly lightsaber.

Responding in weird clicks and clatter, to be understood as the following.

"I told you before, I do not know his name!" The repulsive insectoid Nexican, looking like a cross between a giant beetle and worm gurgled and begged. His skin pulsated, and despite not looking remotely human, gave away all that is necessary to identify fear.

"Time is short Mr. President." Vader unclipped his lightsaber and ignited it, the dull humming energy cascading red light across the water washed windows.

"He was fat. A big fat man. Not human. Very fat…"A swift kick by a stormtrooper refocused the flustered President. "He killed all my advisors and replaced them with a few like himself. Not fat, but the same race."

"And where are these advisors now?"

"When you came out of hyperspace, they left. No idea where."

Pointing to his Lieutenant, Vader ordered the President taken away to his ship. A more 'thorough' questioning period would need to be implemented.

 _Boskone must be rooted out before it can take a firm hold._

An emergency news broadcast came across a large display screen and everyone in the room turned to watch. Views of Imperial transports coming down through the atmosphere highlighted the theme of the broadcast. It showed the Imperial force as occupiers, as taking over the government body and implementing martial law.

"My lord, this did not happen!" Decried an Imperial Lieutenant.

Amateur footage of female Nexicans being blasted to pieces and litters of children being stomped, ran over and over. Clips cleverly spliced together portrayed a complete takeover of the planet, with burning cities and crumbling infrastructure on repeat. Across the bottom of the screen scrolled a message.

" **Help citizens of Nexican 7! Our government has been overthrown, we must take it back! Nexican forever! - President Boolbah"**

"It seems fake news is spreading," commented Vader before turning back towards the window. Far below he could see a slow-moving mass of Nexicans edging closer to the capital building; a wave of thousands, followed by thousands more. Vader and his team had not been present for more than an hour, the speed at which the demonstrations were forming surprised him.

Vader stood looking out at the storm, his subordinate standing at his side. He felt telepathic prodding and probing from many directions, hidden within the crowd and sprawling city. Instinctively he raised his Force block, it held against the multiple angles of attack.

 _Boskone must also use telepaths…_

Unlike the incredible power of Kinnison, these telepathic attacks were of lesser potency, but he knew they could commandeer his own men. Leaving seemed like the best option, even now he sensed that troops he once commanded no longer took orders from him.

 _I will need to kill my own if they do not obey..._

"Lieutenant, bring down our transports and evacuate. Fake information can move faster than our ships and troops."

"Evacuate… my lord?"

"If we kill a thousand, a thousand more will replace them. We will need to destroy this planet. Set course for Coruscant."

Vader continued to look out the wind blasted window, rain-blurred his vision. He left the room behind, his mind flowing through the Force, searching...

 _ **Luke...**_

 _Father..._

 _ **We can end this destructive conflict by overthrowing the Emperor.**_

 _Then I will become all that I have sworn to hate, all that I have promised to fight. I can see the future._

 _ **One possible future...**_

 _Then you know what I must do, and you will be forced to kill me._

 _ **If that is your destiny**_

 **Imperial Galaxy - Coruscant**

Inside the Emperor's office, where all matters of galactic governance took place, Darth Vader and the Emperor discussed all things Boskone. The battle inside Outland Transit Station now monopolized the majority of dinner time conversations across the Galaxy. People and aliens everywhere could not stop talking about it, and like a game of telephone, the more that spread the story, the more it morphed. But Vader did not care about this, did not concern himself with untrue stories. What worried him and the Emperor was the vast network of Boskone agents inside their 'perfect' dictatorship.

"This is a problem, a great problem indeed," oozed the Emperor. The Rebel Alliance had no more than a few thousand men and women, this supported by an apparatus of a few worlds sympathetic to their cause. But this new and vastly more intricate and expansive enemy posed quite a problem.

"Why the telepath informed me of such things I do not know," admitted Vader.

"My friend. We will need to be careful. Surround yourself with loyalists, we cannot be allowed to be infiltrated. Now, leave to the foreign galaxy, supervise Grand Admiral Thrawn's campaign. It seems the political arm of his strategy has fallen away. See to it the Earth is captured or destroyed."

Vader swayed on his feet for a moment, wanting to raise a topic with his master. The Emperor eyed him carefully, sensing uneasiness.

"Master," he grumbled. "You have brought Darth Maul back from the dead. Is it possible to-"

"I need young Skywalker. Only then can Padme be returned to you." As the Emperor responded, he concentrated hard on his own thoughts and feelings. He did not want to betray it was not him who brought Maul back but the Q. No one but him knew the truth and he needed to keep it that way.

"As you wish..." Vader strolled out the doors, leaving the Emperor in peace, but he felt far from calm. Thrawn's prerecorded assessment he had just obtained of the Milky Way's campaign infuriated him.

 _I have been tricked.…_ Even thinking this rational thought brought him pain, anger, and embarrassment.

"Right on all fronts, Palpy."

If the Emperor jumped from the surprise voice he did not show it. Across the room, walking out of the wall came Q. Dressed in traditional Jedi garbs he hung a lightsaber from his belt and the hood drooped low across his forehead.

Not taking the time for a customary hello, Palpatine sneered a question.

"Do you believe you are infallible?" This caught Q off guard, and he smiled slowly, surprised by the Emperor insects boldness.

"I am omnipotent. Perhaps to you, with your tiny mind you feel that things are not going as planned. That somehow you have been lead astray?"

"I am trying to determine how much of this you knew."

"Everything. I am leading the blind."

The Emperor, as he had done countless times before, chuckled menacingly.

"So this mess is by design. These problems you foresaw."

Q delved into the Emperor's mind, looking for clues as to this set of questions. As he suspected, Palpatine did not trust him. The Force told the Imperial ruler something else, but despite all the power of the Q, he could not tap into it. Something his god-like mind could not process. _Perhaps faith, a human concept, which may be necessary for this mysterious Force. An inferior power really…_

"Your worried your going to fail, I get it. I would be worried too. Let me explain." Q launched himself into the chair opposite the Emperor's desk and placed his feet up on the dark glossy surface of the table. "You got a problem."

"Many…"

Q winked and raised his hand into a fist. As he named out each issue, he lifted a finger to emphasize his point.

"Your main industrial hub is gone. The Dominion are gone. Your probe droids are not being replaced as fast as they are being hunted down and destroyed. So your coverage is waning. Let's see… what else. Oh… the Federation builds area-denial hyperspace emitters around their territory so you're going to lose your chance very soon to go deep into their territory. Ahhhh, you inept monkeys… can you not even conquer a solar system?"

The Emperor closed his eyes, a small smile creeping along his thin and aged lips.

"I can see your weakness," perhaps gloating, he continued. "I can feel it."

Q's browline furrowed, the insect-man's menacing smile bothered him. He did not like something so pathetic judging him.

"What do your little powers tell you my liege?"

"You have never faced a challenge." Now the Emperor rose slowly out of his chair and stooped towards the god-being. "You have never faced death." The old man's smile, displaying aged and yellow teeth, hit home. How the Emperor knew this, Q could not tell.

 _How can he get a sense of that fact? That truth?_

"Soon Earth will be _mine…"_ Dark Force lightning crackled in his eyes, "... and then I will turn my attention to the Boskone disruptors running rampant throughout _my_ Empire."

Q flashed away, leaving the Emperor alone to ponder over the next moves he needed to make. Vader's longing and need for Padme would only go so far in terms of control.

 _Vader and his son will need to be eliminated together. I cannot risk them turning against me._ A soft beeping broke his concentration and an advisor requested entry into the chamber.

"What is it…"

"Your Highness… We are being sent a request from the Tridori Argricultural installation. They are requesting Imperial troops to help quell an uprising."

The sickly eyes and withered skin of the Emperor's face conveyed confusion. Such small matters should not have been brought to his attention.

"We have people for these matters…"

Stuttering, the aide continued,

"Yes… ahem. But this is now the fifty-sixth planet to request our help. They say there is a drug problem in the lower parts of their population. Mostly homeless or-"

"Dispatch troops immediately, Ensure there is plenty of droids along with men."

"At once…" the aide stirred on his feet nervously,

"Is there anything further?"

"Just that… that we lost contact with listening post seventy-seven in the outer territories. Last contact came from the base commander. He mentioned that everyone had turned against one another. Some sort of madness…"

"Send droids to investigate. Leave me."

After a long gracious bow, the peon made a hasty exit, leaving the Emperor to think once again.

 _This must be the work of Boskone…_ With millions of systems spread throughout the Galaxy, fifty-six represents a mere drop in the bucket, _but even still… Far more than the Rebels ever managed to turn._

Moff Jerjerrod's blue hologram shimmered to life in the middle of the great room. He bowed and kept his eyes downcast until spoken too.

"Moff Jerjerrod, is the Death Star on schedule?"

"Yes your Highness."

"See to it that it is fully staffed and supplied for all contingencies. I am assigning General Veers to oversee the transfer of division units. Once that is completed, destroy Nexus 7. Then set course for the wormhole. I will be joining you."

If hesitation existed, it did not last more than a second. The lump in Jerjerrods throat cleared,

"I will inform you at once of our departure."

 **Milky Way - Edge of Galactic Rim - Alpha Quadrant**

Grand Admiral Thrawn sat alone in his lightless office, only the faint blinking of computer monitors set to 'off' gave any indication that anything whatsoever belonged in the room. As close to depression as one could reasonably assume, the Grand Admiral slumped in his chair. For a day he sat, his hands clasped, eyes shut. Everything he had masterfully setup, created, nurtured, lay in ruin. The agonizingly long Dominion manipulation, only weeks from maturation was now a memory.

 _The Metrons… why? Why did they do that?_ The truth is, Thrawn already knew why. _Kirk… you visited them months ago. What did you tell them…_

Imperial probes long blasted from the heavens around Metron space blocked the Imperial operation from gathering any information on them, even their destruction continued to be a mystery. With Kuat no longer producing waves of probe droids, Thrawn could not afford to dispose of them so recklessly, and so the 'blackout' area, now hundreds of light years around their planet, maintained that absence of information.

Adding to the mind blowing pressure facing the campaign, the Bounty Hunter infiltration was all but exhausted. With more than a fifty-percent defect rate, all infiltration attempts had halted. Whoever continued to respond to orders did so, the others lost in the busy and ever corrupting Milky Way.

 _Where does this all lead… where are the Pirates getting their ships and supplies?_ Thrawn no longer trusted the embedded units on Romulus either, as they continued to transmit to his analysts that the government continued to cut back on military spending. Probe droids still active showed no unusual shipbuilding facilities, _none of this makes sense… we are tracking millions of tons of raw materials illegally moving towards their space…_

With millions upon billions of analyst subjects and topics, it came to no surprise that crucial details to tie everything together were not looked upon. Combing and sorting through vast reservoirs of information could no longer be correctly executed once a certain threshold is passed. Was a coup against a local government on a remote planet in the Beta quadrant significant? Was the devaluing of particular precious metal, in a particular trade sector in the Delta quadrant important? No one could be sure, and hence the unsolvable problem continued. No allotment of analysis droid and personnel could hope to uncover the paper and telepathic communication used by Boskone to command their agents. Fake news, now proliferating like cancer sought control of their population centers, with each planet subjected to a specific narrative that may at a later date be used to mobilize them into action. Freely. Willingly.

 _Boskone… far beyond the Rebels… a civilization within our own._ Thrawn had been briefed by Imperial Command regarding this new and threatening enemy. The problem he now realized was the connection of dots. _And even so… how do you combat nationalism… drugs… prostitution, gun running, crime, extreme capitalism... across a galactic scale? Especially if we are not representing all that is good and wholesome. Our galaxy is rife with this, Boskone is merely exacerbating it._

With a long sigh, Thrawn stood and collected himself, the time had come. Turning on the lights, he straightened his uniform and sat back in his chair, only this time his eyes gleamed and chin rested high. Activating his communications line, his finger hesitated for just a moment. Then he started,

"This is Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial Navy. Captain Kirk, we have much to discuss."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise**

Firmly snuggled into the arm of Captain Kirk, Cienna gently played with his ear lobe, tracing her finger around his upper ear and then hairline. Her steady eyes examining the not so subtle expressions of her partner. She had already read the report, but she enjoyed watching her lover analyze and comment on a second reading.

[[

Joint Assessment

Admiral Ross, Commander Data

Full Network and Analytical Scan and Assessment

Starfleet Command, San Francisco

-Dominion Warships have been completely destroyed throughout the entire detectable range of Starfleet long-range sensors

-Captain Picard's log related to the plague within Klingon space reveals a 99.9% likelihood of Galactic infection within 401 days.

-I calculate more than 84 planets within Klingon and Cardassian space have succumbed to the outbreak, it appears to be spreading at an exponential rate

-Production of Hyperspace denial systems are behind schedule. Starfleet Engineering reports that one system will be supplied daily, within an average of thirty needed per solar system

-Federation destabilization efforts are accelerating, I suspect a 66.3% chance of complete breakup within 882 days

-Captain Kirk is to brief Starfleet command and elected officials on the identities of unknown ships protecting Betazoid

-Ship production is ongoing, with eight ships slotted for completion within 24 months.

]]

The captain lay the pad down on his chest and sighed. He knew ship production fell far short of what the Empire could produce, but something else bothered him.

"James… have you felt it's presence again?"

"Yes, I can hear it."

Cienna nuzzled even closer to his warm body, minutes turned to hours and she felt his chest rise and fall as he lay awake, looking at the ceiling and beyond. The Gravemind called to him, it's voice the same as that which spoke to Kirk through the Guardian of Forever.

"Calling blindly into the darkness may have been a foolish mistake…" Kirk shook his head slowly, unable to fully grasp the enormity of the situation unfolding within Klingon and Cardassian space. "It says it wants to save humanity."

"The plague is alive then… intelligent and with a goal and plan."

"It wants me to go to Kronos, to merge with it. To help me… understand." Kirk's distracted speech seemed unsure, as if wavering on the decision as to what to do.

"No Jim. No, you cannot go." Cienna now sat up on the bed, leaning sideways to look down onto his face. "We need you, Earth needs you. You cannot go, who knows what it will do to you. Maybe you will get sick and-" Cienna caught herself, the sudden impulse of emotion creating a tremor in her lip and chin. "I need you here."

"I'm not going anywhere, do not worry." A lie. Kirk could not shake the last message, or thought-impulse he had received.

 _ **Come to Kronos before the Galaxy is brought into our fold**_

Captain Picard's report on the events on Kronos now consumed the daily briefings and analytical work of Starfleet. Nevertheless, without precise numbers, the exact death toll could not be adequately computed. Starfleet estimated that over fifty billion aliens had fallen to the Flood. The Shaping Sickness.

"Cienna, Mr. Data on Earth estimates that the virus could spread through the entire Galaxy inside of fifteen months. Spock concurs with this…"

"Perhaps that is why Q did not want us talking to the Creators. To whatever that virus is or represents. Maybe it will ruin his test?"

Their conversation ended when a message from the bridge informed the Captain of an incoming message of unknown origin.

Several minutes later…

"What do we have Lieutenant Uhura?" Asked Kirk as he strolled onto the bridge.

"Sir, I do not believe this. We are receiving an incoming signal off the closest Imperial probe. It seems… well… it seems to be their commander."

The Captain's eyes became hard as diamonds, locking with Spock they both exchanged knowing looks.

 _This moment could be a turning point_

The viewer flickered to life and instantly filled with the upper torso of a blue-skinned humanoid. Dressed in a white uniform, impeccably kept and free of wrinkle or tatter. His red eyes unwavering, he nodded his head slowly to start his introduction.

"Captain James T. Kirk of the United Federation of Planets. How nice it is to meet you."

Taking a seat, Kirk crossed his legs and flicked a few buttons on his chair to alert Luke and Kimball.

"And you are?" Kirk asked tersely.

"I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, commander of the Imperial forces within your Galaxy."

"What do you want?" Kirk glanced over at Spock who nodded his head ever so slightly.

Thrawn's red eyes slowly circled the bridge, he studied every face, anything and everything to help delve into the Captain's psyche.

"You know what I want Captain Kirk. I am well aware of your rendezvous with the Rebel forces within the Cardassian Demilitarized zone and their assistance around Betazed."

"You killed a lot of people. Butchered. Murdered." Kirk's icy cold demeanor bemused Thrawn,

"You are not like your colleagues are you Captain. Not like the rest of your kind. You are a soldier and warrior. Carved from battle are you not?"

"Get to the point," Kirk again looked over at Spock to reaffirm 'something',

"You must know that your chances of defeating us are zero. Your Federation is cracking at the seems, already breaking into smaller parts. And that was just the Dominion, those poor puppets nearly brought an end to your union. Now imagine the full might of the Imperial Navy. I have been authorized-"

"By Emperor Palpatine?"

This brought a pause to Thrawn's speech, while he knew knowledge and information indeed would be shared among the Federation and Rebels, it still brought concern. Uneasiness.

"We will accept your surrender. No more will have to die. Already far too many of your fellow citizens have perished."

Kirk's chest began to deflate like a blown tire, he wiped his brow.

"How do I know you will keep your word? We would have a lot to discuss…"

"Let us discuss it."

"No. Not like this… it would have to be in person. I would need advisors, perhaps diplomats."

Kinnison following along through Kirk's eyes, hoped the trick would work.

 _ **Good one Jimmy, if I can get close enough I'll re-write his mind**_.

Thrawn gleaned from ear to ear and shook his head almost laughing. He did not trust the Captain one bit.

"I am your superior in every way James Kirk. I will run circles around your fleet and tear apart your planets one by one. For every day you do not surrender, one world shall perish."

The defeated and downtrodden 'act' from Kirk began to melt away, and he raised his head back towards the screen. His eyes hard, unwavering.

"We will fight for every inch of land, every sector of space. It isn't one man or woman standing against you, but all of us! All of humanity! Up to this point you've been hiding behind the Dominion, afraid to get your hands dirty." Kirk stood and walked towards the viewer, "...but it's time for you to put your ships on the line. We fight for something! For a reason. A purpose. What do your troops fight for?"

"Kirk… be reasonable, millions will die."

"Grand Admiral. No one will be left to rule. No one will be left to hear you gloat. Does that sound like a victory for you? There is something you need to understand about-"

"I understand everything about humanity James T. Kirk. Your weaknesses, your strengths, your history. Every war you've ever fought and waged. I know you better than you know yourself. You are going to lose, and there is nothing you can do about that my dear Captain."

"That leaves me little choice,"

Thrawn's fingers danced together, delighted and hopeful the stubborn human was coming around,

"No it does not James. No it does not… you cannot win."

A wry grin came across the screen, and Thrawn's forehead furrowed in confusion, he recognized the human expression, not one of surrender or defeat, but the opposite.

"I don't believe in no-win scenarios. See you out there."


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

War Has Reached Home

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Earth**

One-hundred and fifteen Federation Council Members sat within the governing chamber overseeing the remaining planets within the alliance. Each day, more civilizations withdrew from the Federation union, believing their solar systems to be better off fending for themselves or in a smaller group with the Andorians.

President Jaresh-Inyo, once a proud elected leader now seemed sunken and withdrawn. Greatly diminished by stress and the seemingly irreversible collapse of the Federation, his demeanor faded day by day. Now he listened to an unbelievable tale authored by Captain Kirk and his new foreign friends. Hour after hour, the Captain, Luke Skywalker and Han Solo described in great detail the Galactic Empire, it's resources and leadership.

"This is… outrageous. How can we hope to overcome such a military threat?" Asked a Council Member. This followed by another series of questions peppered towards the trio standing before them.

"Are we to expect a full attack?"

"What can we do about this?"

"Mr. Skywalker, you mentioned the Emperor, is he hellbent on conquering us? Or destroying us?"

Unending questions and answers were exchanged, but elsewhere, deeply hidden among the populace only a few kilometers away sat Kinnison.

His mind probing each of the representatives within the Council chamber. Prying back the layers of memory and consciousness, he sought the telltale signs of Boskone manipulation or Founder or Imperial agents. Of the remaining Federation elect, he suspected only three had been manipulated. Taking a few moments with each, he repaired the damage and overwrote the xenophobic tendencies each displayed.

Moving his mind outward he scanned the rest of Starfleet Command, sweeping quickly for imposters of any sort. He descended upon Director Sloan, still in a comatose state in the Starfleet Medical building. After being sliced in half, his body remained alive through a machine.

 _Wait a sec…_

Moving deeper, he noticed Sloan's brain had almost imperceptible machines embedded within the neurons.

 _Why did they not detect these?_

Moving to the minds of the doctors and nurses, Kinnison found none were aware of the miniature machines, their scans unable to read the masked saboteurs. The Dalek's in their wisdom had uploaded a sub-command algorithm to all transporter and medical device computer codes, disavowing the machines as biological matter and therefore unimportant.

As the Lensman moved and twisted through the labyrinth of Sloan's re-written memories, he began to understand test site Cherno 44 was not what it seemed. On the manipulated surface of the Director's mind, Cherno 44, hidden away in the mountains of Wyoming seemed innocent enough. A testing area for subspace weaponry, but when specific 'fake' memories were pulled away, and the true picture became apparent, Kinnison knew the worst. In Sloan's mind's eye, he saw the ill-fated resuscitation of the Dalek aboard the secret Section 31 space station, the history of mental adjustments and temperament alterations. All real and unreal history within Sloan's mind flowed into Kinnison's, and so the mission became clear.

 _Jim, Spock, Cienna. It's far worse than we thought. The Dalek's are running a secret base in Wyoming. I do not know precisely what they are doing, but I am willing to bet it isn't subspace weaponry._

 _No, it would not be, the Dalek's mastered that a long time ago. They would consider it ancient technology…_ replied Cienna telepathically to the group.

Back within the Council Chamber, Admiral Ross reviewed the hyperspace denial technology rolling off the production line.

"With these systems in place, no Imperial probe or ship can enter our solar system without being ripped out of hyperspace. But…" he sighed and switched on a monitor, "as you can see, the production facility in the Canary system has been sabotaged and our engineers killed."

The security footage revealed two attackers, Luke immediately narrowed his eyes to take careful observation of the Sith and Bounty Hunter. Slicing and dicing their way through the dozen engineers, they quickly destroyed the computer systems and then teleported away.

"That is the fiftieth production facility so far this week that has been hit. Our guards are not able to stop them. We lost over forty of our security staff in one raid alone. Can you help us? Without the hyperspace denial systems, our worlds are sitting ducks."

Luke leaned over and whispered a few somethings into Han's ear, the scoundrel reluctantly nodded along.

"Admiral," voiced Han, "we will track them down for you."

After another hour of back and forth between Starfleet Command and the Rebel alliance representatives, the time approached where the President needed to address the greater union, as well as the rest of the quadrant. Standing alone in front of his view screen, he spoke to a blank screen. His image and message transmitted throughout known space.

"Citizens of the Alpha Quadrant. I come to you now in our most desperate time. For almost a year we have faced the menace of the Dominion and Cardassian Union. Fighting for territory and ideology, the lives lost are uncountable. As many of you know, Betazed was nearly destroyed, and I say nearly only because of the help of our new friends. The Rebel Alliance ships helped repel the attack, allowing for the Betazed civilization to survive. " President Jaresh-Inyo paused and looked down at his cue-cards. One of the media officers quickly checked the equipment for a malfunction, thinking it the cause of the long pause. After a moment, stretched longer by the utter silence of the live broadcast, the President looked back towards the screen and smiled.

"On these cards, are a few notes, written by my staff to address the terrible truth we face. And even though I am the elected official for some, I feel now I am going to have someone else address the issue. Someone I know you respect, even if your races and cultures have faced him in the past." Stepping aside, the President raised his hand and invited Captain Kirk to the podium.

This unexpected move froze the Captain in place, he looked around at the Admirals and peers, and to his surprise, he saw them ushering him forward. Slowly the Captain stepped towards the podium and stood looking at the capture screen, knowing full well that what he said and did broadcast live to the trillions of Alpha Quadrant inhabitants.

"Thank you Mr. President. For those of you who do not know me, my name is Captain James T. Kirk. To all those listening and watching. All of us now face a threat unlike one we have ever faced, and we have ever known. Far from here, a wormhole exists that connects our Universe to another. This door allows for entry as well as exit. For a year, perhaps longer, the ruling government body referred to as the Galactic Empire has sought to influence and take over this galaxy. The Dominion were their puppets, the Cardassians being led by a lie. The bombing of their capital, in what seems like a lifetime ago, was set up by Dominion operatives. The changelings, the probes, some destabilization efforts… all part of the plan. We are going to broadcast to each of your capital worlds a complete set of detailed files related to their intervention. But. Thanks to the Rebel Alliance who stands opposed to the Empire and their cruel Emperor, we too, can have a chance." Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Kirk thought back to the battle aboard the Enterprise. The resolve his crew displayed in the face of total defeat. Thrawn had come close to capturing him, _close, so very close..._

"What I ask now is in desperation. Of our very survival. For ourselves and our prosperity. For all our future generations. We must stand against the Empire. To cut no deals, to make no treaties. We cannot let them pick us apart and break our collective will. We. _MUST._ Stand. United!" Kirk's fist came down like a hammer on the desk. He caught himself for a moment, his passion surprising even him.

The President hesitantly walked into the viewer and shook the captain's hand, knowing full well that he, while elected President, did not represent the people.

Kirk walked back towards the group and asked Luke to join him in the hallway.

"Luke, can you find that Sith and Boba Fett? We can't stop the Empire if we can't build the hyperspace denial systems."

"I can find him, trust me."

"How? How can you be so sure?"

"This is going to be hard for you to accept, but Darth Vader will tell me."

The expression on Kirk's face changed immediately, from calm to concerned and rock hard.

"What? Why. Why would he tell you?"

"Because he's my father."

Like a sledgehammer into Kirk's psyche, the captain's mind reeled at the consequences of such truth and revelation. He stepped back and looked the Jedi up and down.

"Luke. Why didn't you tell me? Us? We trusted-"

"Because we would not have come to this point, you needed to trust me before the full truth came out."

Starting at a slow pace, Kirk considered everything while debating the information now loosed upon him.

"What is the Force exactly?"

"An energy connecting all things." Luke gestured with his hands and found a bench close by where he sat down and looked past the walls and into his memory. "It binds us… it resonates between all of us. I can tap into it, sense it."

"Is that what a Sith uses? Is that what Vader uses? Kimball, he faced your father you know…"

Nodding his head, Luke knew that to be the truth, he could sense it, almost see it. Continuing with his explanation of the Light and Dark sides of the Force; he spoke of Jedi history, the clone wars he only knew from stories, and to the events on Dagobah with Master Yoda.

"Luke, this energy. This ability seems to go both ways. It can either be used for good. Or for evil."

"Yes, the Dark Side feeds on fear, hatred… jealousy. Captain, the Force is strong with you. I can feel it swirling around you. In the past you might have called it intuition, or perhaps luck. But that is the power. What you feel when you take a guess, a hunch, a gut feeling is the Force speaking to you. My father, once Anakin Skywalker, who fought alongside the Jedi. He fell to the darkside. He was scared to lose my mother. My master once said, fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering."

"I reject it."

"What?"

"You heard me. I reject it. I refuse to believe it. My fear, my passion, my hate, all of it. That is MINE to control. Decisions I make are mine." Turning back towards Luke, his eyes were now softer, reflecting on his past, his inner being. "The Force has no place with me. Only experience, skill, determination, the will to win. The will to survive."

"Jim," Luke smiled, "You may reject the Force, but it is with you. Now... speaking of that, I should start by hunting down the Sith. But I have one favor, I need more help, and it de-escalates a situation all at the same time."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Earth - San Francisco**

Cienna sauntered through the parting crowd of customers as she carried two drinks back to the table. Waiting for her sat 'John,' his back to the rest of the guests, he looked out at the beautiful scenery surrounding the San Francisco Bay area. He wore regular civilian clothes, a long green shirt carefully chosen to cover his gruesome scars and tattered skin. As Cienna approached, she closed her eyes for a moment, guilt as heavy as ever played with her mind.

"Yes of course sweetie, yes… yes of course." John mumbled to himself, his right hand holding steady in the air, stroking the hair of his long-dead wife. Madness, illusions, and the Old Ones tore and festered, sickened and tortured his consciousness. The physical, an empty shell once resembling a man, continued to whisper and murmur. "We will be together again of course, yes of course… Yes, I got eggs… sure that would be lovely."

The rattling of teacups startled 'John' and he stopped abruptly and looked over at his friend. _She is so lovely, perfect. But…_

 _ **Protect her always, kill all those who would bring harm to her**_

'John' shook away the Old Ones and managed a soft smile. He did not study her beauty as one would a model of a beautiful woman seated across the room. Instead, a life companion, a friend, his only true friend. He felt she was the only one in the world for him, in the entire Universe. _My wife, Cienna. Are they the same? Had the Dalek's recreated her for me?_

 _ **Yeeeessss, she is yours forever**_

 _Perhaps when this is all done…_

His smile faded slowly, the thought of Kirk entered his mind, and he slowly reached for the teacup. Cienna noticed the change and asked what ailed him,

"What's the matter John?"

"I know about you and James…" replied 'John' bitterly.

Cienna did not react, her mouth moved to take a sip, uninterrupted by the revelation. She waited a moment, trying to gauge the damage done. The soldier took a long sip and placed the cup down, looking back out at the blue sky he smiled again.

"Did I ever tell you that you look like my wife, you look exactly like her. The Daleks… they must have done that on purpose." Sun shone on his face, closing his eyes he tried to remember their time together. The small house in Dunwich, not too far isolated from the major suburban centers but far enough to offer privacy. A thought then entered his mind, one which never previously had formed, _wait a second…_ "How is it the Dalek's knew of her? How do they know what she looks like…" his voice trailed off.

Cienna winced inwardly, she knew the truth. Unable to tell the broken friend the facts, she shook her head and smiled.

"I do not know John." Guilt pushed the limits of her self-control. She felt like crying, even though she had not been the one to do it. The Dalek's knew the history of that Earth, the Whately bloodline. The Dunwich horror and all the terrible things his ancestors had done with the book. The Dalek's had poisoned his wife in an extended plodding plan to bring him to Phobos. The shocking events of Dunwich and the horrors unleashed into the small town hundreds of years prior were the turning point in the Dalek war against the Time Lords. They needed to seize what was only faintly hinted at in the old and grizzly scripture of the Necronomicon.

'John' sat in deep thought,

"And why me? Why can't anyone open the door?"

"From what I know John, your bloodline has a connection to those things. Somewhere long ago, your ancestors made a pact with those beyond our reality. That is what I know. Also, and this is unknown and unproven, the person uttering the spell must believe, they must want the door to open."

"Which is why you were made to look… I see. The Dalek's wanted me to save you in the inter-dimensional realm, summoning the Old Ones through the gate. We know their plan now, I will not let that happen. I slipped once by unlocking the first pillar of the gate, the first section. But that will not happen again."

Cienna reached over and touched 'John's' mangled hand, a thousand times it had been broken, repaired and broken again.

"I know."

John locked eyes with her, he loved her truly, _but I cannot have her._

"Sorry to interrupt." The familiar voice broke their gaze, and both turned to see a visitor standing beside their table. "John, Cienna. Nice to see you." Luke Skywalker stood beside their table, his black outfit covered by a brown cloak shifting gently in the breeze. "John, we need your help. The Sith that I saw in my visions is creating chaos. I need to find and stop him, but I need your help."

'John' paid little attention, turning back towards his tea and taking another sip. He sat quietly, and unresponsive. Again Luke tried to get through to him,

"John. The Sith will be coming. It is better we take the fight to him."

"I stay. I need to protect-"

"Cienna. Would you excuse us for a second?" Interrupted Luke. She gracefully rose from her seat and took a small walk away from the patio. Luke pulled her chair close and sat beside 'John,' his eyes boring into the soldiers. "She dies by his hand. I've seen it in my visions. Only we can stop him."

'John's' face boiled, his eyes flared, and at that moment, Luke Skywalker knew he could never kill 'John.' Within the eyes of the tortured man came the depths of stranger things, a blackness, the infinite abyss beyond the stars and heaven. Luke felt himself being pulled in, his soul swallowed in an all-encompassing 'something.' And after what seemed like an eternity, a reply.

"So be it. Jedi."

 **Milky Way Galaxy - Alpha Quadrant - Earth**

The bright moon cast pale shadows across the forest landscape. On the edge of a lake, Captain Kirk, Kinnison, and a platoon of security personnel struggled up the steep embankment. Several kilometers away, carefully hidden from view on the face of the steep cliff, the entrance to Cherno 44. Kimbal, after analyzing the entire dissected mind of Sloan realized they needed to act. And while the vegetated Director knew little, it was enough to gauge the immediate danger. Kirk had argued any move against the Dalek's could spook them before the yet to be constructed Starfleet superweapon could be brought to bear.

 _What good is a super weapon if we are all dead to use it,_ he finally admitted.

This clandestine attack against Cherno 44 came with a significant risk, but one that must be taken. Moving under cover of night, armed with mobile transporter scramblers and communication jammers, the team hoped stealth would win the day.

Redwoods as tall as buildings rose up on either side of the marching platoon as the fifty-degree slope of exposed roots and jagged rocks slowed their progress.

"Let's move it men," whispered Kirk, "...take it easy with those generators, we don't want-"

 _GET DOWN!_ The telepathic command smashed into the captain and security personnel just as the tree line exploded into fire. A shockwave pushed everyone to the ground, and clumps of shredded tree rained down upon them.

Kinnison threw every morsel of telepathic power towards Cherno 44 to snuff out the resistance but found himself hitting a rudimentary thought-screen. His mind pushed and probed, pressed and drilled. The screen surrounded the site, but its design gave him hope. It felt weak, as if built by someone not entirely sure of the concept.

 _The Dalek's must have built this, but why? Why would they do that? Do they know I exist?! Did… did Boskone tell them?_

Red phaser fire swept down the mountain, tree-trunks exploded in superheated temperatures and night turned to day. Kirk kept his head down but began shouting orders to his hunkered men.

"Move forward! Get under the ridge line and deploy your phaser rifles. Return fire when it is safe to do so."

Zip!

Zip!

Zip!

More inbound fire blasted apart trees and rocks crumbled under the intensity. Kinnison scrambled up the slope and rested beside his friend,

"I wish I had more than one!" The Lensman pulled his sleeve up and revealed a thick wrist controller with buttons. His fingers flew across the controls, carefully keeping an eye on the lake below. Moments later, emerging on its own from beneath the lake came his armored juggernaut. Ten feet tall and four feet across at the shoulders, it's design like those used by Boskone agents across his native galaxy. Twelve-thousand horsepower of armor, weapon, and shield came stalking up the hill, small trees snapping like matchsticks as it shouldered its way through.

As Kinnison climbed into his rig, the security attachment opened up with phaser fire towards the top of the cliff face. Chunks of rock the size of basketballs erupted and burst into superheated bombs of pulverized debris.

"Keep firing men! I'm going in." The machine groaned and twisted as shield and weapon systems came online. Then with labored momentum, the engine of destruction started to run, smash, and tear through the towering redwoods. Too far to see with the naked eye, Section 31 operatives were fanning out into the adjacent underbrush to spread out from the devastating return fire coming from the mech. Attacking with thunderous repetition, bullets tipped with 'duodec' shells ripped ten-foot holes into the solid rock and ferocious heat beams melted the trees and brush for hundreds of feet. Burning men screamed near the entrance of Cherno 44, and yet as the intensity grew to chaotic levels so too did the frenzy of slaves rushing out from the hidden site.

Like wasps exiting a nest to defend their territory, the hillside swarmed with brainwashed Section 31 operatives, shouting and hollering to hunker down and secure the site. The steep tree line now resembled an apocalyptic landscape, with clear lanes of blistering fire between the warring sides.

Section 31 rightfully concentrated on Kinnison, whose deflective screen now absorbed the incoming fire of dozens of powerful phaser rifles. It sizzled, belched, and radiated energy outward, pushing the generators to maximum limits.

After a fierce back and forth exchange, Kinnison launched another telepathic assault towards the fledgling thought-screen. Narrowing his focus, pushing with everything towards a small imperfection. All fiber of being smashed, drilled, and bore into the invisible barrier.

Success!

The thought-screen flickered, and in that impossibly small fraction of time, five Section 31 operatives died, their minds blasted to oblivion. The screen rebounded and Kinnison again found himself locked out. _Dammit._ Back down the hill by a few hundred feet, Kirk's men were hunkered in alcoves of jagged granite, their faces covered in mud and flying debris. And as each minute passed, more and more soil, rock, and tree root vaporized away.

Recognizing that he must push harder for Kirk's men to make their ascent up the right slope, the Lensman continued his assault.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! Spat the machine gun.

WUSH! WUSH! WUSH! WUSH! Singed the heat ray.

Kinnison's machine scrambled, pulled, and twisted its way up the rocky slope. Again, Section 31 concentrated their phaser fire which plowed into the frontal shield, causing sparks and energy refraction in all direction. Trees not caught in the direct fire burst into flame from the outward expansion of heated air and melting earth.

The substantial and devastating exchange went on, with each passing minute men blew apart or melted on the spot. After an hour, the blistering phaser fire from the mountaintop came only as a small whimper, a few Section 31 operatives remained but not many. Kirk peered through the dark forest and saw a small outcropping just a kilometer ahead, a small flat area, almost like a landing platform not far from the main entrance to the secret base.

"Kim. I found the entrance, it's on the right flank near us, about a kilometer ahead. We are moving in, keep distracting them."

 _Good stuff, they are sputtering, just need my shield to recharge for a minute._

The Captain looked back and tried to count heads, of the seventy red shirts that had accompanied him, only fifteen remained. The rest lay dead along the steep slope, cut down, burned, or blasted over the course of the intense struggle.

Through Kirk's communicator, a broken message attempted to get through, the communication jammer stopping both friend and foes long-range communication.

"Cap-"... "-Kirk... " … "-Picard…"

Ordering the jammer to be temporary switched off, Kirk heard the full message.

"Captain Kirk, this is Captain Picard. An incoming ship headed for your direction. We are attempting to intercept but we are ten minutes away."

"Acknowledged, catch them if you can." Kirk switched to his secure frequency, "Kim, looks like Cherno called for help, they penetrated our jammers. Incoming."

Straining his eyes against the early morning pink horizon, Kirk and his men looked upward into the sky to try and catch a glimpse of the ship. Who it was or how it bypassed Starfleet planetary defenses presented a mystery, one he could not solve at this moment.

Kinnison sent his mind outward,

 _ **BLOCKED!**_

 _A thought-screen! Boskone. But how? Why are they here?!_ Kinnison examined the screen with his mind, solid, impenetrable.

 _Jim! Make sure that communication and sensor scrambler is at full power. We can't let that ship detect us here on the ground or we are dead meat. It's Boskone, protected by an atomic thought-screen._

 _It's at full…_ there! Look!" Kirk pointed his finger into the air, his men following it. Many miles away dove a ship, head first through the atmosphere towards the ground. A fireball five miles long following as the shield and atmosphere battled for supremacy.

"Is that one of ours?" commented the security officer to no one in particular.

The blazing fireball continued to fall, and as it came down the look on Kirk's face began to change. As the fire subsided and the ship became clear, he could scarcely believe it. Now skimming only meters above the giant lake came the Enterprise. It's thrusters causing hundred foot waves as 'she' streaked inward towards Cherno 44.

 _Oh my god, how can it be? How can it be..._

 **ISS Enterprise NCC-1701**

Sputtering, unable to think of the how, or the why, Kirk's mind floundered.

"That… that's the ship from our mirror Universe. Where… everyone is evil. I went to that ship, and my own evil self came to this one…"

Watching in awe, the Enterprise flew overhead and slowed to turn on its own axis, the wash of its thrusters blasting the forest flat as it settled just above the small landing pad near the Cherno 44 door. With the transport scramblers active, the rescue needed to be completed by foot.

Reversing slowly, the Enterprise now 'parked' itself a few meters from the landing platform, and with a loud hiss the shuttle bay doors opened, and a ramp lowered onto the embankment. Even from a distance Kirk knew the unmistakable uniform. The determined walk and green outfit with black pants gave the identity away. It was him, his mirror-self.

"Jim. Is… that who I think it is?" Asked Kim completely baffled, his mind unable to penetrate the now expertly crafted thought-screen.

Following behind evil-Kirk came evil-Spock, both men carried overly large phaser rifles, and then…

"Oh my god."

A Dalek floated out from the ship's hold and moved quickly towards the secret entrance, all but ignoring the earthly destruction.

"Captain Kirk, Picard here. We are coming around Jupiter, we will be in firing range in four minutes."

Kinnison sent his mind against the screen, feeling it out, pressing and prodding as he went.

Then.

Unexpectedly the screen dropped and what came next could only be described as instinctive-reflex. Immediately a tonnage of mental power came blasting out towards him. Catching the brunt of it head on, Kinnison screamed in anguish as he raised his block and pushed back with everything he could muster. Like a giant weight pushing him down, his 'mech' took a knee on the hillside, the machine mimicking its master's mental trauma.

 _Oh my god!_ Shouted the Lensman telepathically between clenched teeth, _Your…_ Kinnison grunted and screamed as he pushed the mental force backward, straining to communicate to Kirk. _... Your alter egos are against me. They are Black Lensman!_

Understanding a distraction could break the attack, Kirk called for his men to push forward up the right slope. Firing phasers wildly, the red shirts rushed over their rocky alcove. Far above, evil-Kirk dove and rolled to safety; his overemphasis almost comedic, but useful nonetheless. Jumping back to his feet, he stood like a giant over a conquered landscape, looking down below at the 'mech,' ground to a halt under his and evil-Spock's attack. He could sense the Lensman struggling, but the incredible power of Kinnison impressed him, despite the double team, they could not get through. Not wanting to risk more, he ordered the thought-screen raised.

Kinnison gasped as the attack cut. Not waiting, he sent a counter-attack with his own mental bolt.

 _ **BLOCKED!**_

 _Damn! Damn! They raised the screen again!_

Evil-Kirk waved his men into position, each carrying upgraded phaser rifles and exotic weaponry. In addition, an energy and matter shield erected around the landing pad reflected all incoming fire, giving the Boskone rescue party plenty of time to carry out their mission.

Along the right flank, Kirk and his platoon inched their way forward, blasting and ducking along the way. He knew Picard's Enterprise would be in firing position soon and so he just needed to stall the rescue effort.

"OK men, I want everyone to aim for the rock just below the shield radius. We are going to try and cause the cliff face to fall off."

"Uh… sir. Won't that be an avalanche then? We will get pummeled."

"We better get out of the way then. Ready? Fire."

Altogether, the remaining security staff fired at a point just below the landing pad and beyond the shield radius. Rock blasted and melted, and black smoke billowed for a hundred feet blocking all visibility.

"Keep firing, don't let up!"

Atop the platform, evil-Kirk recognized the danger and grabbed evil-Spock,

"Let's move! This outcropping is about to collapse!"

Cracks zigzagged through the large 'shelf' of rock as the barrage of incoming phaser fire ate away at the supporting mountain just below. Section 31 and Boskone agents returned fire but it was too late, the damage had been done. Rips and gasps of hot air and disjointed granite grinded and ground downward, the entire platform began to sink. Pulling and pushing men to safety, evil-Kirk suddenly looked into the sky.

"Move!"

Large red blaster bolts smacked against the raised shield on the crumbling platform, then a loud and thunderous WOOSH! The Millenium Falcon rocketed overhead and then began a tight bank along a river canyon in the distance, preparing for another attack run.

"That ship is coming around for another pass. Spock! Forget the 31's, let's go!"

Both sprinted back to the hovering Enterprise just as the entire surface collapsed. Thousands of tons of rock, soil, and tree, turned to slag and began to ooze downward towards the lake. The engines of the Enterprise rumbled louder, and slowly it started to pull away from the mountain. And as the ship created distance between itself and the secret base, Cherno 44's door clanged open, revealing the last inhabitant.

The Dalek floated outward towards the flight deck of the mirror Enterprise. With it, two large cylinders, each exhibiting a green eerie glow flickering and pulsing through the dense smoke.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Woosh! Woosh! Woosh!

Kinnison concentrated everything he could on the furthest cylinder,

 **BOOM!**

The cylinder violently exploded, sending shards of glowing green and yellow plasma in all directions.

"Exterminate!" Swiveling its gun, the Dalek fired a single energy bolt, striking Kinnison's 'mech' center mass. To the Lensman's surprise, the weapon bypassed the shield and scrambled the internal electronics of his armored suit. Crashing to the ground in a thunderous heap of twisted metal and fused circuits, Kimball struggled out of the machine and bolted to safety.

 _Jimmy, they are getting away, where is Picard?! Are you in communication with the Falcon?_

No reply.

Kimball sent his mind into the forest in search of his friend. He found him, buried several feet under rock and earth from the avalanche. Immediately, he started off across the mountainface, but without the suit to propel him faster, he feared he may take too long to reach the buried captain.

Above, the mirror Enterprise began to move off, at first with a slow rumble, then a powerful woosh as it glided gently along the surface of the lake between the mountain passes. In the distance, coming around for its second attack run raced the Falcon. It fired another salvo, splashing against the raised shields. Like two knights in a jousting match, they passed one another only a few hundred feet above the lake. What surprised the Lensman was the lack of return fire on the part of the Enterprise. With it's thought-screen raised he could not read the minds of the crew and could not comprehend why they did not return fire.

Sending his mind into the now abandoned Cherno 44 site, he scanned every inch.

 _Abandoned, that Dalek took everything of import-_

Then he felt it. Tucked neatly away in the corner of a room, the strange, yet unmistakable mechanics of a powerful bomb.

 _Oh my god! Han! Han! We need immediate evacuation! Transport us at once, here is Kirk's location!_ Sending a mental command through the smuggler, the transporter locked onto the buried captain and beamed him aboard. Next came Kinnison who materialized a few seconds later. Only due to sheer luck had the transport scrambler been destroyed in the avalanche.

Rushing through the hallway towards the cockpit, he saw 'John' sitting quietly at the games table in the central seating area. He nodded in acknowledgment before bursting into the cockpit.

"Guys, we need to move. Now! This entire mountain is about to blow."

Han's head spun like a top,

"What? How? Where is Kirk?"

Back on the transport pad, Kirk's eyes flickered open before a fit of coughing overtook him. Dirt, sand, and grime, flew out of his mouth while his eyes adjusted to his environment. The last thing he remembered was diving behind a large rock as the mudflow overwhelmed his platoon. An intense pain ran down the right side of his leg, he knew it must be broken. The ringing in his ears subsided, and he could hear Kinnison arguing with Luke and Han. Pulling himself off the floor he looked around, three redshirts coughed and wheezed near him, the only survivors from his platoon.

"You men stay put, let me go see what is going on."

Leaning onto the wall and placing more weight on his left leg, Kirk limped down the weathered corridor of the Falcon, inching his way towards the argument ahead. As he passed the central seating area, he fell to his hands and knees, wincing at the pain shooting through his leg and lower back. Struggling to keep his composure, his right eye caught something sitting on a bench. Turning his head slowly, he saw 'John' sitting, fully armored with one hand resting on the table, the other on his leg. Kirk blinked away a strange vision, a shadowy movement and then readjusted. Both men stared at each other, only one of 'John's' eyes could be seen through the cracked facemask.

"James, where is Cienna?" The muffled voice of the soldier sent an icy chill down the captain's spine. No hello, or how are you. The cold awfulness, the uncaring demeanor and otherwise disinterested behavior of the soldier felt like a cold knife through his heart. Knowing about Cienna and the Captain made 'John' wild with rage, Kirk knew this, but he hoped, perhaps foolishly that the man could get past it.

Kirk spat another glob of dirt from his mouth and tried to raise himself to one knee. Again the soldier repeated the question.

"Where. Is. Cienna."

"Safe. Aboard the Enterprise…"

With this answer, 'John's' one visible eye blinked slowly, keeping a close watch. The dim wall lights flickered for a moment, his eye disappeared, replaced with _something_ else. Kirk blinked away the hallucination and pulled himself up against the wall, Luke rounded the corner and grabbed his friend.

"Jim! Sorry, we are up here arguing..." Kirk waved his hand to dismiss the apology,

"It's okay, I'm fine. What is going on?"

Luke helped Kirk into the cockpit where Kinnison and Han continued to argue.

"You said we need to leave, and now you're asking us to stay? Didn't you say the entire place was going to blow?!" Shouted Han over his shoulder as he kept his eye on the controls.

"Just a second longer, I'm reading the minds of the Section 31 guys who are still alive in the forest. Wait…"

Kinnison telepathically leaped from man to man, absorbing all their memories and knowledge, but there were many, and the entire mountain was about to blow.

"...wait….wait...ok go!" Kinnison slapped Han on the shoulder, and the smuggler pressed the throttle to max. The falcon blasted forward and simultaneously the mountain seemed to expand like a giant balloon. Due to the sheer size of the underground explosion, earth, forest, and mountain appeared to grow slowly, but nothing could be further from the truth. The eight-hundred _**megaton**_ bomb detonated miles below the surface with devastating effect.

Skimming only meters from the surface of the lake, Han looked at his rear camera, the mountain now seemed enormous, the superheated gases were expanding, pushing upward until finally they released in thermonuclear fire. A fireball erupted outward, spewing building size chunks of rock into the atmosphere. Cracks a hundred miles deep shot outward in all directions and whatever life, either animal or human, died.

Kirk looked on in amazement, totally unaware of what was happening,

"What is going on?"

"Looks like your alter ego or the Dalek planted a giant bomb in Cherno 44, it's all gone. We are now chasing the Enterprise. It's headed for the Pacific coast."

Forest, tree, city, whipped past the cockpit windows as the Falcon hugged the contours of the land. Flying at thousands of miles an hour, Han pushed the Falcon to the max to try and chase down the fleeing mirror Enterprise.

Kirk fell into one of the seats, dirt caked to his pants puffed into the air causing Luke to break into laughter for a moment. Despite the enormous stress, the 'gang' were still afforded the opportunity to laugh on occasion.

"Kirk to Picard, Kirk to Picard."

"Picard here,"

"Can you detect the ship ahead of us?"

"Yes James, but it is throwing off significant interference, we are having a hard time locking on."

"Then come down into the atmosphere, it must be stopped. Try and stay behind it to avoid return fire."

After another minute, a faint ball of orange and red flickered and pulsed on the dancing horizon. Han raised his hand and pointed,

"There they are, the atmosphere is burning up around their shields due to friction."

The fireball drifted side to side, expertly navigating mountain range and topographical features.

"We've been spotted, it's increasing speed, hold on." Han flicked a few switches and now the red burning heat of the atmospheric friction danced and nipped at the Falcon's shields. Between clenched teeth, Kirk heard the smuggler muttering "...boy she is fast…"

Kirk leaned forward and laid his hand on Solo's shoulder,

"Stay directly behind where the main phaser array cannot target, we must avoid a direct assault. They must be headed out over the ocean so they can leave the atmosphere without drawing planetary fire. If they stay this low, their plan might work."

Bolts, covers, and levers, began vibrating and rattling at speeds never before reached within an atmosphere tested the old freighter.

"C'mon baby, c'mon… I know! I know! I see that! I understand that!" Shouted Han as Chewie barked and roared at stress indicator lights decorated the dashboard.

In the distance, an enormous emptiness approached, the ground giving way to the ocean. And as they approached, the mirror Enterprise banked left, the Falcon straining to keep pace.

Along the left side, the coastline blurred past. As both ships were heading south along the American coast, a sudden dread overcame Kirk.

"They aren't trying to escape… San Francisco…"

Kinnison thought it over as well,

"You sure?"

"That is what I'd do…" reflected Kirk. He flipped open his communicator and dialed Starfleet Command. "Captain Kirk to Starfleet command. You need to evacuate the San Francisco Bay area, incoming-"

"Kirk this is Admiral Ross, we can't evacuate ten million people, you must stop that ship!"

Ahead, twisting and turning, blazed the mirror Enterprise. And as it hugged the coastline, a massive phaser sweep hit the sea, causing a superheated geyser of water to shoot a thousand feet airborne.

Everyone glanced up, far above Picard's Enterprise broke the cloud line, firing continuously at the evading mirror Enterprise. Torpedo and phaser fire rained down mercilessly, pounding the aft and top shield of the evading ship.

"Why isn't it firing back?" Thought Kinnison out loud.

"They must have all power dedicated to shields, they have not reached their target yet…" Kirk's mind raced, thinking of options.

"Now I'm in range!" Han depressed the firing trigger and angry red bolts shot forward and splashed along the shields. Over the next minute, the Falcon and mirror Enterprise danced and weaved, sweeping in giant arcs as hundreds of miles raced past.

Static came over Kirk's communicator and he flicked it open,

"Say again?"

"-This is Captain Janeway. Break off, we are about to engage head-on."

"Abort! Do not engage head on!" Shouted Kirk into his communicator. He hoped onto one leg and looked at the radar scope. Ahead he could see Voyager coming down through the atmosphere a few thousand miles off.

"Captain Janeway, this is Captain Kirk. Do not engage. Do not engage head-on."

"This is Janeway, we will try and circle around but time is short."

Like a large glider, the Intrepid Starship Voyager fell at a forty-five-degree angle towards the ocean. It's impulse engines flared and weapon systems activated. Captain Janeway ordered her helmsman to try and circle around the side, careful to stay out of range.

Suddenly a plume of black smoke and plasma began to pour from the mirror Enterprise, Kirk's eyes narrowed in. Chewie noticed this as well and grunted something to Han.

"You got it pal, they are slowing down, don't overtake, hang back…"

Phaser fire and photon torpedo hit and missed from Picard's Enterprise in a dazzling display of explosion and avoidance, despite the damage, mirror Enterprise continued.

"This is Janeway, It appears the ship is slowing down, looks like Captain Picard inflicted damaged. We don't have time to circle around, we are engaging, Voyager out."

Kirk attempted to re-establish a line with Voyager as he knew a frontal attack may lead to disaster, but the interference from the mirror Enterprise quadrupled in an instant.

"They just accelerated again? Now switching to emergency fuel cells, we can't keep this up." Muttered Han as he flipped more switches to activate the reserves. "I'm detecting an energy surge, ya… something is happening."

Ahead, the bright blazing ball of fire began to pull away, its incredible speed surprising Solo yet again. Both pilot and co-pilot were cursing and growling at each other to keep the little freighter in pursuit. The ocean view swayed back and forth as the Falcon banked left and right, desperately trying to stay behind it and out of the firing arch.

"Kirk to Janeway, break off your attack. It's a trick. Repeat it's a trick." But it was no use, no signal reached the confident Janeway.

The Falcon raced onward, above, Picard's Enterprise continued salvo after salvo, half hitting, half missing, as the interference level caused static across all scopes.

"Jim, the Enterprise is banking hard towards Voyager, it's accelerating again. Wow." Han fought the controls to stay relevant, but out ahead, mirror Enterprise banked right and continued to grow smaller and smaller as it increased the distance.

"Kirk to Voyager. Kirk to Voyager, break off your attack, I believe they are-"

A crackled and broken message came through,

"-engaging…"

Kinnison and Kirk shared a look of dread.

 _She's too far for me to reach telepathically Jimmy..._

"Looks like the rear door is opening…" noted Han as he strained to make out the readings from his radar scope. Far ahead, the shuttlecraft door opened, and like a parachute catching the wind, the small craft flew outward towards Picard's Enterprise. Perfectly timed, the distraction caused the Enterprise to refocus its fire to destroy the incoming ship. At the exact same time, the shield's of the mirror Enterprise dropped, the plasma leak ceased, and all available power, including life support and emergency reserves, focused into the primary phaser array. A bright blue beam, incredibly powerful and ultra-focused lashed out into the sky. Far above, a white blast illuminated the dark with terrific colors of white, blue, and orange.

A warp core breach.

Voyager was gone.


	32. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

 **Capability and Competence**

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Earth**

"C'mon baby, hold together," gritted Han through clenched teeth and set jaw.

The Millenium Falcon streaked like a blazing star along the California coastline. Voyager's breached warp core illuminated the sky with a dazzling display of superheated particles and cascading droplets of liquid metal. Inside the Falcon cockpit, the vast ocean seemed still, but that only presented itself as an illusion. In truth, individual waves could not be seen at such blinding speed, just a massive sea of blue.

Ahead, mirror Enterprise began to climb higher into the air, it's upward trajectory placing it above San Francisco in a few seconds.

"Chewie," Luke opened his eyes from a brief meditation, "You need to hit the torpedoes out of the sky." The Wookie growled a reply as the Falcon pulled up, climbing by thousands of feet per second. Features not seen from such low level now became apparent. The beautiful city and surrounding area of lush green and booming metropolitan, just waking in the morning sun.

As the mirror Enterprise reached forty thousand feet, a barrage of torpedoes flew towards Starfleet Command and surrounding countryside. In a spectacular display of agility, the Falcon dove downward firing rapidly at the four blazing projectiles.

"Cmon! Cmon!" Shouted Han to Chewie who roared in anger as he missed the first shot. Phaser fire from Picard's Enterprise also lashed out, trying to destroy the projectiles.

1 destroyed,

2 destroyed,

3 destroyed,

 **BOOM!**

Slipping through their desperate defense, the fourth torpedo smacked into the bay area and exploded in a white hot flash. Billions of degrees expanded outward in a fireball of superheated plasma and scorched atmosphere. Life caught in the blast scarcely felt a thing as bones and flesh atomized and disintegrated into their component elements.

"Hold on!" Han pulled hard on the controls as the rapidly approaching ground loomed large. Loud hisses and groans spewed from the instrument panel as the Falcon pulled up and back around towards the sky. Moving quickly, mirror Enterprise banked hard and brought its phaser array to target. Blue beams engulfed the city, cutting and slashing at the heart of the Federation and its people. And as the mirror Enterprise beams tore into California, Picard, in a stroke of luck scored a critical hit. A piece of mirror Enterprise hull exploded, sending the alter-universe ship into a tailspin. Sensing danger, evil-Kirk commanded their escape, and with quick action, mirror Enterprise ascended towards outer space.

Resembling a 20th-century space shuttle, blasting upward at a 90-degree angle, went mirror Enterprise. Behind it, Picard's Enterprise, and further behind him, the Falcon. All racing upward through the atmosphere into the darkness. Ground-based weapons, of which there were few, lashed outward but the damage had been done; the mission had been accomplished.

"Kirk to Spock, Kirk to Spock, come in."

"Spock here."

"Where the devil are you?"

"Seventeen seconds away, we are preparing to engage."

"Tell Cienna to set all power to the forward phasers, target their main reactor. Set beam to ultra-narrow and punch through their shields."

"Affirmative."

Further and further the ships flew, moving at hundreds of thousands of miles an hour and accelerating still. Onboard the Falcon, both ships could be seen directly ahead, orange and red plasma vented from the gaping hole in mirror Enterprise. How evil-Kirk had maintained his shields for so long could not be answered, whether it be Dalek help or masterful power allocation is a moot point.

"Ten seconds to firing range. We are at maximum power, Cienna's modification is in full effect" came Spock's live update. "9...8...7..."

"What the hell is that?!" Shouted Han as he pointed far ahead with his finger. Kirk, Luke, and Kinnison leaned forward to see. And sure enough, far ahead a storm brewed in space. A maelstrom of energy crackled and whirled.

"6...5…"

Kinnison's mouth opened, he could not believe it, no more than he could believe an evil-Kirk existed. Ahead, and quickly approaching due to their speed was a hyperspace tube. It spiraled open like a giant mouth, crackling and throbbing with energy.

"That's… that's a hyperspace tube. That's impossible. That's IMPOSSIBLE!"

Kirk looked sideways, he had never seen Kinnison so shocked and disturbed.

"4...3...2…"

Mirror Enterprise entered the maelstrom and disappeared from this universe. The giant maw blinked and all semblance of the tube erased from existence. Kirk hung his head, they had failed. Sitting in his chair, he thought about all the lives lost, the government body eradicated,

 _My god what have they done…_

"Can we track them?"

Kinnison looked over at Luke and shook his head,

"Where does the light go when you turn off the switch? Nowhere, it just disappears."

 **Milky Way**

Infected Flood ships continued their endless expansion of consumption and absorption. In all four quadrants of the Milky Way and perhaps beyond, planets and civilizations fought a hopeless war against a seemingly unstoppable foe. Alliances forged out of desperation attempted to push back the menace that seemed to creep into every corner of the galaxy. Now moving through slipspace, the infected Flood ships crossed the Milky Way in two days, arriving undetected to unleash their spores and mutated legions onto unsuspecting worlds. Overrunning thousands of planets, the Shaping Sickness masterfully controlled its forces to best expand at the fastest possible rate. The Gravemind with its unimaginable intelligence retained the memories and wisdom of all consumed. Trillions of minds now lay bare to its ancient soul, sifting and sorting through information it may need. And as it searched, filtered, and pulped, a realization dawned on the Precursor intelligence; the abstract thought forming the Gravemind.

 _Who controls the minions, who manages the corrupters?_

Boskone agents and manipulated populations allowed the Gravemind to piece together the magnitude of the 'organization,' and yet even to the Flood, the ultimate top of the pyramid could not be found. No one knew enough, or their minds had been permanently erased.

 _More will need to be consumed_

From across the stars, old structures began to reassemble, erecting themselves out of dust, out of the fabric of the universe. Star Roads, manipulated strands of ether connected themselves into giant whirling instruments of nearly unbreakable structures. Used eons ago to crush the Forerunners, the Star Roads served as both vehicle and weapon.

With a thought, ten-thousand Flood ships departed for the Imperial Galaxy Wormhole. To learn more about the corrupters, the Gravemind sought more life to consume. And as it did so, it continued to call to its child.

 _Kirk, come to me. I have spread to a thousand worlds with billions more to fall. I will enter the void between galaxies and soon cross to bring sweetness to all. Come and we will join as one, where you will learn the truth of all things._

 _I am coming… Creator_

 **Milky Way and Beyond**

Making up the local galactic cluster swirled fifty-four galaxies, the Milky Way among them. Contained in each, a billion worlds, and on many of those, life. Not all intelligent, not all cooperative, but alive. Moving faster than even the Flood, information and manipulation spread rapidly. Ideological, populace, and government manipulation on a scale never before seen in this universe spread, expertly executed, ruthlessly enforced. Not all worlds were controlled the same way, some were subjected to fake news, others nudged along through xenophobia. Regardless of how the worlds or citizens were unknowingly tricked, they now moved together. Not knowingly, or righteously, but towards the same goal. Boskone lieutenants, of which evil-Kirk held rank, pulled the levers of control for the aforementioned planets. Each unique in their strategy and methods, but all shared the same desire. Power. That ideology, and in it, absolute authority to act within their defined territory or assigned commercial or trade sector brought swift and quick change. Not needing to confer, or move through red tape, each level of the pyramid acted as a dictator to a lower echelon. This allowed for maximum expansion, where a Boskone agent could recruit more and more beneath themselves, allocating direct control and authority to do what needed to be done to carry out the plan assigned. No theoretical limit existed in this model as micromanagement did not exist. And as one moved higher in rank, they oversaw more territory or industry on a strategic scale rather than tactical like the lowly rung operators.

Now, across untold planets and spanning ten million light years, aliens rushed to transport ships, scrambling to get aboard and join the mission. Overlords of Delgon, creatures resembling dragons of earth fables joined with manipulated Melkotians, combined this powerful telepathic duo would attempt to break apart the Flood command and control. On another world, galaxies away and far from the threat, the Flood had been described and revealed to be abominations of God. Spiritual leaders and elders of the race known as the Y-Toran waged a holy war. Comparable to the Federation in technological prowess, they lived as fanatics. Those who were too ill or elder to join, stood cheering and waving symbols of solidarity as the starships lifted off and blasted into space. One hundred and seventy million Y-Toran volunteered to wage war against the virus, in a galaxy they knew they could not reach in ten-thousand lifetimes. It is then no surprise that a 'breakthrough' occurred in propulsion by one of their scientists, allowing for inter-galactic passage. This Y-Toran scientist could not explain how he had unraveled the mysteries of hyperspace tubes, but the course seemed clear. Death to the godless parasites!

In whatever language used, across a million worlds, the shouts and cheers were universal,

"Death to the Flood!"

Skies brightened, as engine nozzles flared to life, propelling millions of ships to another place, carrying with them the hope and hearts of the alien populace.

Someplace unknown, higher echelon Boskone officers watched, monitored, and managed their Lieutenants.

And,

Somewhere far, dizzyingly higher in the chain of command, the true Boskone masters, whose incredible minds never stopped, pushed their plan towards its inevitable conclusion.

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Mirror Enterprise**

The Dalek floated up towards the transporter pad where the only surviving cylinder of Xyit Compound 823 waited. The synthesis before the unexpected attack upon Cherno 44 was at 99% and the superweapon mechanical assembly nearly completed. Now, due to the expert aim of the Lensman, only half of the necessary compound remained.

Evil-Kirk and Evil-Spock stood beside the transporter controls, eagerly waiting for their rude guest to leave.

"You are to D-E-S-T-R-O-Y Earth at once!" Raved the Dalek, so angry it seemed to shake.

Evil-Kirk raised his chin defiantly, anger swelling, and unlike his alter ego, had no qualms about displaying it.

"Listen here you tin can!" He pointed his finger right at the eye stock of the Dalek. "Your stupid plan didn't work. We received your alert message, came here to pick you up and raced to Cherno 44. You're lucky you even got away with one cylinder!"

"Do. You. Want. To. DIIIIEEEEEE?" Screamed the Dalek in return. Both faced off against each other, neither flinching, neither wavering.

"Many have tried, all have failed. Including Mr. Spock here," jabbing his thumb behind him. "When I came back to this ship from this Universe, the crossover phenomenon. Do you know? Do. You. Know... what happened Dalek? Do you!?" Kirk's manic expression carried through the wounds and tattered face, sweat beads formed on his forehead and he snarled and spit as he continued. "I came back to my ship and they tried to kill me. First they tried to convince me to overthrow or rebel against the system, but I fought them. I fought them all! For days we had running phaser battles all over the ship. These…" he reached up and felt his face, the tattered and wrecked skin "... these scars occurred when Spock and I finally fought hand to hand beside the warp core."

The Dalek remained quiet, listening and learning as the torrential outcry continued.

"If Spock cannot kill me. Cannot beat me. You. You... never will. I am in command. I will always be… in command." Kirk smashed his hand down onto the transporter control, his fit of rage not unexpected or uncommon. "Earth is mine to control. Mine to conquer. We had a deal. And since your morons at Cherno 44 couldn't defend themselves, now we are left with half the synthesis. But!" He pointed his finger into the air, his face suddenly changing from anger to mock surprise. "We will synthesize it for you, far from here, and it will be ready in thirty-days."

"Your I-N-F-E-R-I-O-R minds cannot comprehend its synthesis."

Evil-Kirk opened his mouth to scream but shut it again. The Dalek was right, and he knew it. The Xyit Compound 823 was beyond their comprehension. But the voice in his head, sent through the black lens told him, ordered him to carry out this strategy. Somewhere, someplace, someone knew how to synthesize it. And it bothered him. Not knowing, or perhaps not remembering how or why they received their black lenses, the voices gave broad directives which he carried out ruthlessly.

"Someone in our organization will produce it," he finally said.

"Like a dog, you have a master." The Dalek turned and set itself down on the transporter pad. Before leaving, it spoke again, this time a warning. "Your telepathic powers are known to us. We have constructed shields against any such intrusion. And we control the ultimate weapon, the end of all things. DO. NOT. TEST. US."

Evil-Kirk sent his mind against the Dalek thought-screen, and to his surprise, the construction did feel different, upgraded, robust. He narrowed his eyes, not liking this development.

 _They are very clever..._

The Dalek continued,

"We ordered you to destroy the spreading virus, but you fail. Our sensors indicate the plague now infects thousands of worlds. Their propulsion speed is now ahead of the races consumed. Something controls the virus, it is greater than the sum of its parts. D-E-S-T-R-O-Y it!"

Evil-Spock stepped forward to address the order,

"Dalek. The virus spreads exponentially, and therefore cannot be contained in any reasonable amount of time. We are working on biological counter-measures, all unsuccessful at this time. This is why we urge you to allow us to synthesize the compound; you may run out of time. By my estimates, the contagion will spread to the center of this galaxy in forty-three days."

"Go on…Vulcan puppet."

"I do have one question. Once the superweapon is turned against the Q, what makes you so sure it will be successful in killing them?"

"Do not concern yourself with matters beyond your comprehension. We have at our disposal something far more powerful. The superweapon is to drive them into their Continuum."

Evil-Spock raised an eyebrow,

"More powerful than a psychic superweapon?"

"As far above the weapon, as we are above you, and you are above your incompetent Captain Kirk."

Despite the insult, evil-Kirk's eyes gleaned. Telepathically communicating with evil-Spock to prod the Dalek, he wanted to see what it would reveal. Something he already knew. The voice from the black lens told him months ago, how the voice knew, he could not guess.

The Old Ones were

The Old Ones are

The Old Ones shall ever be

And they were the Dalek's trump card.

For now.


	33. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

 **Strength is Relative**

 **Milky Way - Gamma Quadrant - Imperial Wormhole**

Admiral Piett carefully eyed the fleet composition on his datapad while making small changes to its configuration. Under orders from Grand Admiral Thrawn to guard the Imperial Wormhole, his eight-hundred star destroyers resembled a giant sphere, with the Super Star Destroyer Executor making up the core. Glistening with thousands of turbo lasers and redundant shields, it dwarfed the surrounding fleet, and yet, even with its 19-kilometer length, all is relative.

Warning klaxons and alarm bells erupted across the bridge, and before a lowly radar operator could shout a warning, Flood ships erupted from the slipstream realm. Ten-thousand ships of a thousand configurations smashed into the Imperial fleet. Transporter beams that only the Gravemind could understand effortlessly pierced the Imperial shields. Within fifteen seconds, hundreds of thousands of Flood forms rampaged throughout the outer layer of the spherical formation. Piett grabbed his communications officer by the scruff of the neck and began shouting orders to rotate healthy ships to the front, but there was no point.

Turbolasers smacked into the upgraded and exotic shields of the Flood ships, creating a spectacular light show across the battlefront. And in return, phased energy weapons sliced and diced into the thick armor of the star destroyers, bursting containment fields and reactor cores. Massive explosions rocked adjacent ships and the entire sphere began to collapse.

Utter mayhem best described the Imperial Navy, where Captains and Security Chiefs shouted in frustration then panic into their communications systems, the inevitable outcome growing closer.

"Admiral! Admiral!" shouted his top aide. "Some star destroyers are turning against us!"

Imperial ships overrun with the virus soon turned their firepower inward, blasting deeper into the twisting and adjusting spherical formation. Droids connected to primary systems soon started to falter as the Logic Plage corrupted their data-processes and algorithms. In some cases, security droids turned against their masters and an internal struggle between man and machine commenced.

On the Executor, Piett ran over to his communications specialist and ordered a connection to the Grand Admiral.

"Grand Admiral. We are under attack from virus ships, our forces are overrun and-"

A thunderous shriek of twisted metal caused everyone to wince as noise mimicking nails along a chalkboard filled the room. The blast-doors securing the bridge collapsed inward from a gigantic blob of flesh and slop scrambling, pulling, and twisting through the door. An elephant sized sack of mutated flesh comprised of many Imperial officers crashed inward. Flood forms ran rampant within the Super Star Destroyer, absorbing systems and personnel. Behind the large mass came Flood stormtroopers, blasting away as yet to be mutated Imperials.

Piett's heart jumped and he pulled his pistol and fired a few shots before ducking behind a column. From the other end of the bridge, stormtroopers lined up and returned fire, chaotic shouting and screaming penetrated the thick smoke and littered bodies. The converted troopers staggered forward, displaying appendages that seeped through the armor, either carrying weapons or used to hack and claw at victims.

Piett crawled on his stomach and fell down into the communications pit, he again called for help but saw all systems were jammed. A moment ago, Star Roads had materialized out of slipstream. Thousands of miles in diameter and resembling giant spider webs of whipping universal ether, they poured interference waves outward which jammed all communication. This in conjunction with the scrambled logic paths of the Imperial A.I. systems put an end to any outward transmission. The spider web engulfed the two fleets and slowly contracted, gravity waves pushing inward to stop any from escaping.

At the center of the giant spider webs sat black pocket dimensions which ebbed and flowed with energy. Within, a Gravemind, controlling the local forces for thousands of lightyears and bringing order to the legions and untold billions of mutated and corrupted aliens and AI systems.

Were all the Graveminds the same being? Conjecture would leave one to feel they were all the same. Exhibiting the same traits, thoughts, experiences, and opinions. Vast storehouses of knowledge and wisdom, contained in tremendously large globs of consumed flesh and bio-matter. And now, in Admiral Pietts final moments, he felt the mind of the Flood. A consciousness pulling at his mind, his body morphing from the scratch marks along his neck.

Piett's skin began to ooze and fall away, and he screamed in pain as mutated stormtroopers jumped upon him, tearing at his neck and face. And as the Flood Super Cell began to change his DNA he heard the call.

 _Firmus Piett. Father of three. Sleep, you have been awake too long. Rest now, and reveal everything to me._

By the thousands, Imperial officers fell to the plague. Within an hour, more than one-hundred star destroyers became part of the Flood fleet. The others destroyed or exploding in a final barrage of resistance. Turbolaser teams blasting away at the universal ether tendrils of the Star Roads felt a sense of hopelessness against their awesome power. The thunderous bolts which tore apart Borg Cubes now smacked into the ether structure only to be absorbed, with no damage at all being inflicted. The same Star Roads the Forerunners had not been able to overcome, now presented an unkillable enemy to the fledgling Empire.

 _A trillion souls wait for me on Coruscant, back to their beginning and their end. All is the same with the Gravemind_

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Sulferian Moon**

A week after the attack by the mirror Enterprise on Earth, the Millenium Falcon lifted off from the Sulferian Moon on the outskirts of Federation space. The small outlier teemed with life, its thick green forests and deep oceans home to wondrous animals and vegetation. Of intelligent life, only local natives who resembled bipedal cockroaches maintained their farmlands and domesticated animals. That is, until Starfleet made them an offer they could not refuse over a hundred years ago. Dilithium ore, the nectar of the modern Federation starship, formed large natural deposits all over the small world. In exchange for its mining, Starfleet provided rudimentary technology for medicine, distillery, and small-scale production of vehicles and modern homes. The Sulferians did not want more, instead they decided to keep their native roots and culture with the idea of hosting workers and merchants for trade. Opening small canteens for traders and miners, the small bars and restaurants allowed those far from home to feel closer, offering an assortment of foods and drink to allow even the most destitute worker a place to belong.

Lifting off from the landing pad, the Falcon's blue engines flared as it disappeared from view. Han and Chewie knew that staying on the platform would make them easy targets if Slave 1 were to ever decloak. Luke and 'John' stood on the landing platform, looking at the front of the busy and boisterous establishment. Music and singing seemed to give life to the dreary gray building whose wind blasted cement showed all the years of its long perch above the sea.

Built atop a steep rocky uprising, the building rose hundreds of meters above the sea and surrounding countryside. On all sides, jagged rocks and dangerous outcroppings gave the illusion of an evil tower high above a magical land. Now midnight, with rain coming down in buckets, Luke and 'John' moved quickly towards the door. And as the Jedi's hand reached for the handle he stopped, he felt him.

"He's here… I can sense it…"

'John' stood beside him impatiently, the rain tinkling and rolling down his armor.

"The one who will kill Cienna in your vision?"

"Yes, and he knows we are here now. I can feel the dark side."

"Good. He is going to die. Tonight."

Shoving past Luke, 'John' pushed the door open and stomped into the establishment. He filled the doorway, his eyes scanning the room. The Sulferians as is their custom, covered their insect bodies with cloaks, all rummaging about, drinking and talking with traveling business people or miners. Luke wedged in beside 'John' and looked around, he shouted above the music to the soldier, hoping the message would get through.

"Just be careful, don't do anything crazy."

Luke closed his eyes and pushed outward, the Force guiding him through the maze of patrons and waiters. The dark side was always elusive, vague, abstract. He could feel its shadow and spreading fear. Sith had the power to cause uneasiness, fear, apprehension among their victims and combatants. The dark side seeped into their minds, into the back of their thoughts and feelings.

Luke carefully moved forward through the crowd, his hood hung low, his hand ready to grab his lightsaber in case of danger. 'John' walked behind him, uncaring and unfeeling of the waitresses and patrons who bumped into him or spilled a drink as he quietly moved them out of the way with his powerful arm.

 **The killer of your love is here. She is only for you. Only you can save her**

The Old Ones spoke, and as they did, 'John' replied, wanting their help, needing them to guide him to the throat of he who dares harm Cienna.

 _I must find him... guide me_

 **Release us, and no man shall harm her, no man can touch her, she will be at peace**

 _Never. Yog-Sothoth sealed you away for a reason_

 **One more key, one more lock**

'John' continued to battle and absorb the mental tuggings and scratches of the Old Ones. Walking behind Luke he suddenly realized he no longer stood in the establishment on the Sulferian moon. He now stood in Dunwich, and again back to the tavern. Realities or perhaps memories were flashing through his minds-eye, and as he took each step he was somewhere else. Back and forth, back and forth. He saw Luke's lips moving, as if in slow motion as the Jedi carefully pointed to a table just ahead.

 _Is he talking to me? What did he say? Where… where am I?_

Then he saw it, the tombstone.

[[Cienna Whately - 2055-2079]]

 _My wife… my beautiful wife…_

'John' stopped walking, and intoxicated dancing and socializing patrons moved in front of him as Luke disappeared into the crowd

 _Wait… my wife's name is Cindy… no… Cienna. My wife Cienna. I will protect you always_

Luke approached a handrail separating the bar and seated meal area. Ahead were six tables, each with hooded figures with insect arms moving around. Eating, drinking, talking, relaxing. Luke narrowed in on one particular table, a lonely patron whose limbs were not insectoid but human.

Believing 'John' just behind him, Luke slowly pulled his lightsaber out of his cloak and held it low. At the bar, a barkeep could be heard talking to one of the floor managers about 'someone' standing, unmoving and to their surprise, fully armored.

"Get that guy outta here," said the humanoid barkeep to his bouncer. Surprised, Luke turned around to see 'John' was not there, only a jostling and happy crowd of dancers and inebriated locals. And at that same moment, sensing an opportunity, Darth Maul made his move.

Wrenching off his dark cloak, the Sith sprang to his feet, unclipping his double-sword lightsaber in the process. Luke felt the danger and whirled around, igniting his green saber and bringing it up for combat. In what felt like slow motion, Maul hurled his hand forward, palm out and sent a powerful dark force blast. Angling his head down in concentration, Luke absorbed the shockwave, his feet skidding along the floor a few feet, but no more. Behind him, patrons and workers flew back as if shot out of a canon. Thirty aliens and humans smashed into the concrete wall, bones snapping and necks breaking.

All but one…

'John' continued to fly, his solid armor punching a hole straight through the concrete wall and out into the dark night. Rain and hellish weather pounded down, and he hit the ground at tremendous speed while continuing to roll. His body reached the cliff's edge and went tumbling over, smashing and crunching against the sharp rock and dangerous slope. Downward he fell, the eighty-degree slope causing his heavy body to hasten it's already substantial momentum.

Falling, tumbling, and crashing, 'John' finally smacked into the ground with a loud thump. He lay face down in a pool of water, unmoving. Thunder cracked and lightning zig-zagged in the sky, and far above, hundreds of meters atop the cliff, Luke fought for his life.

Maul leaped over the rail and attacked savagely with his double saber, he poured everything he could into his attack, the Emperor had demanded Luke be captured or killed, duty demanded one of the other to occur tonight.

Maul knew the Jedi well. Facing off against Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn on Naboo a lifetime ago, he knew how to beat them, to use their calmness and certainty against them. Fear was his ally, and Darth Maul used it now more than ever. Allowing the dark side to guide him, he let the Force tap into the Jedi's young mind, to try and win the battle before it even began.

Luke pushed forward, his green saber cutting and stabbing, slashing and blocking. He pushed and pushed, and as each blow came down, Maul hissed and seethed as he found himself back peddling towards the railing. The young Jedi was not like his elders, not sure, not calm or righteous. Anger, fear, and hatred flowed through him. Maul tried to push back, but with each counter-attack came more power, more vigor.

Down came another hammer, the Jedi's Force assisted strike shaking Maul's arms to the bone. Luke's front foot continued to pull himself closer to the action, his rear sliding along and keeping him pressing. As he had done in his dreams, in another time when he fought his father aboard the Deathstar.

Maul spun around and cut the flimsy railing in half to allow for more room. Green and red flashed in the bar as patrons ran and screamed in all directions. Luke blocked a quick strike followed by another, catching the double saber with his own, his eyes met Mauls. The snarling tattooed Sith gritted his sharp teeth and separated contact. Both looked at each other for a moment, circling and studying the other.

Maul snarled and hissed, he did not like this young man. He was powerful. Too powerful.

In the corner of Luke's eye, he saw something moving behind the bar,

 _Boba Fett!… John where are you!?_

Down in the pooling water, rising quickly due to the torrential rain, the soldier stirred, not from unconsciousness but a dream. He was with Cienna, walking through the meadows and valleys of his old home, he missed her. But now as he pulled himself up out of the water, another thought came to him.

 _The Sith MUST DIE_

He looked up into the dark sky, white-hot lightning crisscrossing overheard. To any sane man, the situation would be intimidating, but 'John' was no ordinary man. Or a man at all.

Turning, he plowed into the cliff face, his hands sinking into the rock and soil as he hurtled himself upward. Water running down made little difference as the armored soldier tore his way up the mountainside,

 _Cienna. I am coming._

Madness, absolute and certain flowed freely. The Old Ones pecked and tore at him, and as he ascended physically, he fell mentally. Down into whatever pit of hell or horror awaited with open arms.

"Cienna. Cienna. Cienna." he whispered to himself, only for his mind to falter, as insanity has no bounds brought by mortal men. "Ci-ehna. Ya-Meyaa Yog Sothoth"

And he continued to climb.

In the tavern, Boba took his shot, the single round aimed for Luke's head. The green blade snatched it out of the air and then spun back to block the incoming red saber. Luke's eyes were unwavering, he could feel the Force everywhere, the table, the tree, the rock, the wall.

Maul tried going high and low, left and right, each and every direction caught and parried, blocked and dodged. Boba ran along the bar to try and reposition himself, the two force users continually moving and circling made for an impossible shot. He did not want to risk hitting Maul.

 _Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter._

Yoda's voice, perhaps in his memory drove young Skywalker onward. He sensed the end, the advantage was his. His cloak thrown away, his black outfit representing the opposite of its color. Along with Luke came the hope and belief that all good fought together against a common cause.

Maul tripped backward over a broken table leg, the Sith starting to panic at the thought of not ending the Jedi's life, failing his master… and perhaps even worse.

Backing towards the wall, Boba Fett recognized the Sith would be out of space in a few seconds. He aimed again and fired, only this time Luke and Maul were entangled, both sabers were committed. Disengaging, Luke spun around and deflected the bolt back towards the bounty hunter.

 **BAM!**

The bolt struck the shoulder armor of Boba who howled in pain as it sparked and blasted apart into a thousand pieces. Using the distraction, Maul sensed his last opportunity and pushed outward with the Force, this time dropping his lightsaber and using both hands in a tremendous blast of dark force energy.

Luke unable to switch his concentration to block it, flew backward like a rocket. Maul watched as the young Jedi lifted off the ground towards the opposite concrete wall, but then.

As Luke flew off his feet, the armored soldier came into view as he catapulted over the top of the Jedi. One hand cocked back into a fist, the other outstretched ready to grab the Sith by the throat.

Maul's eyes were as wide as saucers as he barely dodged the incoming threat. And as he rolled backward and picked up his lightsaber, Maul felt the dark side. Never had he felt a sense like this, it called, begged, and pleaded.

 _ **DANGER!**_

Behind the bar, Boba rolled to his side to inspect his injury just to hear the droid transmission in his ear from the cloaked Slave 1 in orbit.

"Mr. Fett. Mr. Fett. Incoming plague ships, they are landing and teleporting as we speak. You must evacuate."

Grabbing his rifle, he turned it to automatic and pointed it at the armored man. Bolts hissed and sparked against the stained and tattered armor as the soldier bull-rushed forward.

Maul ignited his lightsaber and slashed, connecting squarely with the breastplate, the blade sinking a foot deep, but nothing happened. The armored fist kept coming, and if Maul had acted a moment later, would have been decapitated.

SWUSH!

'John' narrowly missed with a tremendous blow, then another. Swinging wildly, a dump-truck of energy in every dangerous and ungodly attack. Maul backed off and slashed again, but this time 'John' ignited his black saber and caught the blow effortlessly. He pushed the Sith off as if a pesky buzzard and brought his leg straight through a table. Wood splinters exploding in all directions as his unstoppable leg continued unabated.

Maul ducked again, the leg barely grazing his arm.

Boba jumped over the bar and ran forward, continuing to fire with his hand blaster. More sparks and riddled holes erupted on the front armor plate, searing flesh and hissing and boiling blood spilling out of the holes.

Black blood.

"We need to leave, the virus has landed!" Shouted Boba through his helmet. Maul's eyes already wild with anger ignored him and lunged forward, his blade connecting with the black saber. 'John' shoved Maul off with one arm and swung wildly with the other, a near miss.

Maul let loose his powers again, the dark side creating fear for all those in the room, searching for prey and weak minds. But something _ELSE_ crept the room, moving in the shadows and dark corners, _THEY_ waited.

 **We wait, patient, potent. Set us free**

If ever the Force acted as a life-form, this is the only time. Recoiling, revolting, the dark side moved back, Maul's eyes flickered as his senses came to grips with what was happening.

"My Lord! We need to leave!" Shouted Boba again, firing the last of his rounds into the unstoppable soldier.

As if sensing their escape, 'John' lunged, his black saber swiping with a titanic blast, black and red saber met, and in that incredible moment, the crystal of each saber shattered. The mechanism which powers the blades exploded in each of their hands, the impact too high for each to handle.

Not missing a beat, 'John' continued through the Sith's guard and grabbed the tattooed villain by the throat. Maul reached up desperately to pull the grip away, but the vice-like grip of 'John' could not be broken. Boba ran forward and gave a solid kick, but like a snake, 'John' shot out his other hand and grabbed the leg of Boba who went crashing to the ground.

Across the room, Luke shook his head and opened his eyes. Blood flowed down his face from the impact of the wall, and in his delirium he thought he saw 'John' standing across the room. Maul in one hand and Boba laying on his back with 'John's' boot pressing down onto his compressing helmet.

"Luke! Luke! Can you hear me? Interference is bad! I'm coming down right now, evacuate, evacuate. The plague ships are everywhere." Shouted Han into the communicator.

The door of the tavern sprung open, and a grotesque Sulferian mutated by the Flood howled and scampered. Luke jumped to his feet and sliced the oncoming mutant in half. Another appeared in the doorway, dragging along another whose legs had not developed, and the four-armed, two-legged insect rushed forward.

"John! We need to leave!" Shouted Luke as he hacked another one to pieces.

All across the planet, spore pods dropped into the lakes and forests, and the bio-consumption of all life began.

Boba, whose face was an instant from being crushed pressed his emergency evacuation button and both him and Maul shimmered away to safety, his emergency transporter activating just in time.

'John's' hand clinched a second too late, and his hand grasped at the energized remnants.

"No! ...no!" 'John' screamed as loud as he could. Dropping to his knees he held his head, ignoring the desperate calls from Luke to evacuate. Without the ability to transport, 'John' had to do it by foot.

"John! There are too many of them!" More Flood burst through the ceiling and door, and as they scrambled and charged inward, unbelievable rage and anger, once directed towards Maul, now set its sights on the Flood.

 _It is because of them the Sith's escaped! They caused it...they… hurt Cienna. Cienna my love, I am going to protect you._

The Falcon swooped through the rain and hovered above the landing platform a few hundred feet from the tavern. Chewie stood on the open ramp firing rapidly at approaching Flood soldiers. High above, a Star Road materialized, carrying with it a Gravemind and thousands of ships and infected.

Inside, Luke used his Force power to hurl a mutant across the room seconds before it reached 'John,' who knelt seemingly unaware of all unfolding. After a few more seconds of hacking and slashing, Luke started to move towards the door, keeping a careful eye on his companion.

Then.

In Luke's head he heard it. Not a memory, but a voice. His old friend and mentor Ben Kenobi.

 _Run Luke, run_

'John' slowly started to stand, his fists clenched and trembling with anger. A beastly growl like a lion replaced the usual human voice.

"I will kill all of you!"

Luke kicked open the door and ran headlong for the Falcon. Slicing and dicing incoming Flood forms as they tried to scratch and bite him.

Inside the tavern, strange air whirled, and shadows danced,

"You will face your _**DOOM!**_ Yeeeahh-Shub-Neeyahh!" Organs entirely unknown produced the sounds from 'John's' mouth, and at the exact same time a massive crack split the tavern in two. Like a shockwave, the crack ripped left and right, the building heaved and the roof fell inward. As Luke ran, the crack zigzagged across the ground behind him, opening a chasm with hissing steam and rushing air. Chewie growled and the Jedi turned around, a humongous Flood form, two-thousand pounds of local indigenous life pulsated forward. It had climbed up the cliff face and now charged headlong from the direction of the tavern. Blaster bolts from Chewie were not enough to stop it, and as each bolt chewed into the flesh, Flood spores burst out and flowed through the water flowing over the landing pad. The crack opened wider and the large Flood form leaped into the air to cross the distance with every intention of absorbing Luke as it landed.

As it flew, Luke raised his hands, unsure if he would be able to stop its body before it crashed into him. But something caught its rear-end and it went crashing to the ground, its globular body bouncing off the side of the chasm as it struggled to hold on and not fall in. Luke squinted through the rain and saw 'John', half in and half out of the crack, he held the rear-end and he pulled it in. More Flood forms came piling on, and as they landed on 'John' he seemed to grow in stature. He ripped and tore, smashed and pulled. Luke then realized what was happening. The soldier was not trying to escape, he was pulling them _into_ the chasm with him. The blackness, the endless abyss did not lead to the center of the Sulferian Moon but elsewhere. Flood forms entangled with 'John' now tried to claw out of the hole, but could not. 'John's' fist blew out the stomach of a Flood as he tossed it back over his shoulder and down into the pit. Scratches, bites, and spores had no effect on the soldier. Not made of matter from this or any Universe, he slaughtered them with the utter-most violence.

More than indigenous life and virus mutations roamed the moon.

Things older than time now stalked the forests, and crushed the cities.

 **[[...by their smell shall you know them near...]] -Necronomicon-**

From the pit, a stench filled Luke's nostrils as he ran as fast as he could towards the waiting Falcon.

Rushing onto the ramp, Luke turned as Han lifted off towards the sky. Endless rain blurred his vision, but what came next would stay with the Jedi for the remainder of his life. Far out, where his vision faltered, a mountain walked. A flash of lightning illuminated a _THING_. Miles high, it lumbered, in shapes not possible, with movements not possible. _THEY_ had arrived.

In that infinitesimal amount of time Luke saw the beast, the thing, the something; he would never mention it again. He could not. If it were not for the rain, and only a faint outline seen, the poor Jedi would have gone insane.

 _That is impossible…_

Closing the ramp, Chewie and Luke moved into the cockpit where Han hit the throttle and the Falcon blasted upward into the blackness of space.

Star Roads and plague ships paid no attention to the Falcon as the Gravemind found itself preoccupied with an ancient horror. Only in the dreams of the Precursors and their brothers the Q had _THEY_ existed. Yet, now, as it was in the beginning, the Old Ones spoke.

Hell might be a human word, but the concept is universal. Somewhere deep down in the darkness, trapped with 'John' and the Old Ones, the Flood found theirs.

The planet cracked and plunged into internal darkness, the sun faded, and Star Roads and Flood ships fell to the surface. A consciousness reached for the stars to only fall back again, not ready, not able. Leaving only a broken world, it's core exposed as the tremendous power of its visitors caused the small moon to split in two. Now _THEY_ were gone, with nothing remaining but a dead world.

Time, for all its importance only has meaning to those who are governed by it. Only when the stars were right would they come near, bringing with them their images from beyond. And if the stars were wrong, they could not live. The secret to Yog-Sothoth's gate may well be the stars, but no man can know.


	34. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Eve of Chaos

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise**

The collected group of Kirk, Spock, Cienna, Luke, Han, McCoy, Chewie, Scottie, and Data sat in total silence as Luke described the events on the ill-fated moon. The Android had been recovered in weeks-long search and rescue missions after the events of San Francisco. Nine-Hundred and seventy thousand dead. Now the solemn-looking group sat and listened in great detail regarding the circumstances leading up to Luke's eventual escape. Han laid out the sensor logs of the Falcon, noting the exotic drive which the Flood ships used.

After the Falcon had placed some distance between itself and the Sulferian moon, the trio of Han, Luke, and Chewie wanted to double-back and try and locate 'John'; but this proved impossible. Flood ships soon overran the entire system, paving the way for all other worlds to be consumed.

Luke also felt terrible for not being able to stop the Sith. Now known to him as Darth Maul thanks to a talk with his father. Vader had revealed the location of the next target, and so they had made their move. The battle took a toll on the young Jedi, despite besting Maul he still felt defeated.

"... and that is when I boarded the Falcon and left…" said Luke finishing up his story.

Cienna sat perfectly still. 'John's' fate twisting her stomach, she felt sick to the core.

 _John died for me… he chased down Darth Maul because of me…_

Captain Kirk sat stoned faced, absorbing the story and weighing the implications. Despite 'John's' obvious opinion of him, Kirk did not hate him. On the contrary, he wanted him to succeed, then resting forever. Visiting his mind with Kinnison had shown him a broken spirit and empty shell. And yet as he slumped in sadness, part of him did not believe it.

 _He wanted to die, begged to die. But…_

"He is at peace… like he wanted..." Kirk clasped his hands together while forming his sentence, "...he fought for us. And now, we must fight on to honor that." Regaining his composure, he set to business in organizing the last item not yet obtained. The superweapon.

"Spock. Cienna. You need to board the Dauntless and begin construction of the Magnetic Corridor Weapon as soon as possible. Kimball says the ship can replicate and assemble everything you need. And with its four cloaking devices, should be undetectable at long ranges, even to the Daleks."

"That is a logical plan. The weapon will be fully assembled in thirty days," responded the Vulcan.

Kirk nodded along, part listening, thinking, analyzing, predicting.

 _My alter ego is here… the other Spock must have failed in his overthrow. I underestimated … myself..._

The 'how' and 'why' were already answered from Kinnison's peppering of questions soon after the destruction of San Francisco and the death of their President. Boskone, by Kinnison's reasoning, had infiltrated the Mirror Universe. This brought more questions and even fewer answers. Who runs Boskone? How far does it reach? What is their plan?

Adding to the mystery is their alliance with the Daleks. Kinnison, whose compartmentalized mind worked the problem over, found himself stuck.

 _Why? They are natural enemies..._ _one of them is using the other… but who is using who? And why?_

Tapping his fingers on the conference table, he tried to solve the puzzle,

 _The Arisians said Boskone ended at Ploor, and we destroyed them… the Galactic Patrol had won. How can any of this be possible?_

"Cienna, I've shared all I know regarding Boskone and the war with my Galactic Patrol. Why? Why would the Dalek's team up with that sort of organization?"

Kirk's eyes shifted towards his love, he knew already that the news of 'John's death would hit her hard, that somewhere down deep she would blame herself. The room waited for an answer, and while the pause drew on, Kirk opened his mouth to jump in, but she raised her hand and offered an opinion.

"The Dalek's have constructed many super weapons throughout their history. Some directed towards time, others directed towards matter. For Instance, the Reality Bomb was designed to cascade a wave through all reality and unravel molecular bonds. They can wage war on an unbelievable scale. Spanning time, space, and dimension. In the final days of the time war, when we were about to bring about the Old Ones, they sent ten-million ships to destroy the Time Lords, their sworn enemies. They fought them in the realms that we would not consider real, in times we didn't think ever existed, in the future and past. I do not see why they would need Boskone."

Spock considered the facts, neatly organizing them into segments which he then dismissed or investigated.

"Cienna," he began, "... you mentioned they constructed a machine to unbind the molecular bonds of reality. But these bonds would not affect energy beings, at least not as we understand it presently."

"No… not as I understand them..."

Kirk's eyes started to move back and forth, an idea formed.

 _If they constructed machines to destroy the physical… they must need to build something to destroy… to destroy what…_

"Thought."

Kirk's one word felt like an electric bolt through Kinnison's brain. Implications started to compound, and pieces began to fall into place.

"Yes Jim...yes. The Dalek's can destroy the physical. They can travel through time and dimension. But maybe thought eludes them. Maybe…"

Cienna considered this and began reviewing in her head all the different gadgets and mechanisms she was privy too, and soon a pattern emerged.

"My… god. That must be it. The Dalek's lack the means to control or destroy thought. I wouldn't call it a weakness, but I suppose it's a gap."

Kinnison sighed and rubbed his eyes, he knew this was bad. Boskone could stop even the most significant thought waves known to existence, the Arisians. The super beings who created the Galactic Patrol could not bypass the atomic thought-screens developed at the end of the long war.

"This is bad. My god this is bad."

Data twitched his head in deep calculation,

"Based on the information we do have, this assumption is logical."

"Agreed," nodded Spock.

McCoy who could not stand the coldness of logic rolled his eyes and sighed,

"Oh dear god help me," griped Bones rubbing his head, "It isn't bad enough we have a robot on board, but now we have an android."

Data raised his finger to object but decided against it, the opinions of the famous Leonard McCoy regarding computers and logic were well known. He let it pass.

Hours later, when the assembled group broke away, Kirk found himself beside Luke, walking down the corridor towards the transporter room. They discussed in more detail the events on the moon, the seeming mental implosion of 'John' and the strange words and sounds that came out of his mouth. Stopping at the doors, Luke made a final comment, one he had been wrestling with,

"Jim. Something else was on the planet. I-" Like a small child whose eyes wandered when disciplined, the Jedi faltered in his description. His mind reeling and rebelling against the memories which were only partially there. Fate had been merciful to him, the rain and distance obstructing his view. A cold sweat overcame Luke and he shook away the images without elaborating further.

"It's okay. I know." Kirk put his arm on his friend's shoulder and smiled. "I saw something here on the ship when the stormtroopers were attacking… maybe."

Both men now stood silent, reflecting on their experiences, and just as Kirk moved towards the door, Luke grabbed him by the arm.

"Jim. If they do exist. Then that is the future where there is none. Just gone… I've felt it."

Kirk stared into the young Jedi's eyes, nodding slowly, thoughtfully. The same eyes of the captain that saw miles, that cast into the future if only in the present. Without another word they entered the transporter chamber to say goodbye.

Cienna stood beside Spock and Data on the transporter pad, checking and rechecking the equipment resting behind them. Kirk felt a lump the size of a mellon in his throat, the quiver on his chin hidden within a stern demeanor. And yet beneath, he felt scared. Last night they had stayed up talking, they loved each other deeply. And no matter how many times he saw her, or heard her voice, Cienna's beauty and softness always melted his heart.

 _She is perfect… and now I must send her away… away from my protection…_

Kinnison, giving last-minute instructions to all three regarding the A.I. systems of the Dauntless had decided to stay. He felt it better to help Kirk navigate the tricky weeks ahead.

"We are ready Captain," declared Spock as he set the final clamp on the transport box. Cienna turned and stood quietly on the transport pad, smiling at Kirk and the others. And then a second turned to five, then ten. Luke turned slowly towards the captain and wondered if he could do it; to let her go. "Captain… we must go…" Spock gently reminded his friend.

Blinking away distraction, Kirk raised his chin and took one last look at his beautiful woman.

 _So intelligent, brave, why do you have to go… why does it have to be you…_

"Transporter Chief." A small tremor crisscrossed his cheek, a multitude of emotion bubbling to the surface. Throughout all the stress and pain, the doubt and reflection, she had been there at his side. The long nights of planning, regretting, worrying. She had been there. Always.

"Energize."

The familiar buzz of energy emanated from the chamber, and the three figures and machinery glimmered into a dazzling glow. Cienna's eyes locked with Jim's, beaming with pride and passion, she had one thing left to say.

"I love you."

Kirk raised his hand outward and took a staggered step forward, he opened his mouth, his eyes wide,

But she was gone.

His hand and eyes fell, and the room was quiet once again.

 **Milky Way - Galactic Rim - Super Star Destroyer Vigilant**

"My Lord, we must withdraw." Thrawn stood defiantly behind his desk, knuckles resting along the smooth glassy surface. Lord Vader stood across from him, rhythmic breathing filling the Grand Admiral's office. The same office which for almost a year buzzed and crunched data to advance the Imperial campaign. Thrawn's entire plan lay in ruin, the Dominion and Cardassian puppets were history, the secrecy of his fleet revealed. Almost all Bounty Hunter's were dead or hopelessly corrupted.

"Speak your mind Grand Admiral."

Switching on a few graphs and maps, Thrawn began his detailed explanation of the hopelessness of their situation. As ambitious and intelligent as the Grand Admiral is, he knew when retreat presented itself as a valid option. And while the fate of the Metron's remained unknown, the Flood and Boskone overshadowing their 'supposed' threat.

Switching to a topographical map of the Milky Way, Thrawn showed Vader the expansion rate of the Flood, the tremendous gains in all quadrants on a seemingly daily and weekly basis. Traveling with unknown methods, the plague ships popped into the real universe at any point, devouring the biological assets of a planet within a day.

"As you can see my Lord, we cannot track these plague ships in whatever form of travel they use. And, since they have broken through our defensive lines at the wormhole, they are now free to infect our own galaxy. We lost almost a thousand star destroyers in less than a few hours."

Vader stood and listened, he had to admit the situation seemed grim. Two powerful yet entirely different enemies trying to destroy their galaxy. The virus consumed all life, spreading at an incredible rate from world to world. Thrawn now predicted four months for total infection, with no cure in sight and no hope in stopping their movement. Boskone presented another type of threat, creating social upheaval and cultural change at a steady rate among rich and poor, human and alien. While the virus could be seen and attacked, the flow of ideas proved equally impossible to control.

As the Grand Admiral laid out more information, Vader thought things through.

 _Nexus 7 had to be destroyed, but it's destruction was used as propaganda against the Empire on a thousand other worlds._ Vader could not comprehend how to stop the spread of this fake news and manipulation, and yet the truth and events were far worse than he knew. Overlords of Delgon, hideous living dragons with incredible telepathic power hid deep underground on hundreds of worlds, corrupting the population to bring about ideological change. Assigned by Boskone Lieutenant's, The Overlords were deposited into underground caverns by way of hyperspace tube, undetected and untraceable. On other worlds, captured Melkotians completed the same task to similar effect, all working as one giant mechanism to slowly twist the gears of the galaxy.

"My Lord, we have another problem. Our probes have stopped transmitting, they are no longer functional. We are essentially blind. The computer system running the network seems to have been corrupted, we are unsure of how-"

"Spare me the excuses Grand Admiral," interrupted Vader, raising his hand to wave off the meaningless rebuttal. "Continue your operation. The Deathstar will be entering this Galaxy, be sure the Federation defenses are compromised. Earth is to be targeted."

"May I speak freely my Lord?"

"You may."

Thrawn relaxed and rubbed his eyes, he pulled up a few more diagrams and maps before making his final point for withdrawal.

"With Kuat Drives destroyed, we have no hope of mass producing planetary shields, assuming they can stop the exotic drives used by the plague ships. We face a crisis where total defeat is only months away, but our intelligence circles are lifetimes behind in gathering the essential information we need to combat both the plague and Boskone. Before our probes stopped transmitting, we detected fleet engagements across the Milky Way between pirates and the virus, I surmise the pirates are just one arm of the Boskone operation. The fleet's for both factions are growing in size by the week, the last seen numbered in the tens of thousands. Our navy is diminished, and whoever is victorious among them will surely turn on us. It is therefore…" Thrawn straightened himself to full height, he knew what must be said, "... that we concentrate our Forces on the core worlds in our own Galaxy. I do not see the logic of continuing this operation, while we advance on this small insignificant front, we are losing everything. Further, we must destroy the wormhole connecting the universes."

Vader remained silent for a long moment, his mechanical breathing the only sound between them. He knew the Grand Admiral to be correct, nothing made any sense to him either. The Emperor had promised him Padme if Luke was brought before him, and yet his obsession with Earth brought them to ruin.

 _The Emperor must see this..._

But.

Equally strange to the seemingly idiotic strategy was the Force images he saw in his dreams. A plot behind the words of his master, an agreement he was not privy to.

 _Not all is what it seems._

 **Unknown Location**

Stalagmites and stalactites pushed up and edged down within the sizeable gloomy interior of the cave. In every direction ran dark outlets where millions of years ago underground water surged and cultivated into vast reservoirs below the surface on this forbidden world. And now from those dark caves came shadowy and mysterious figures, coming together for the first time after a meeting had been called. Boskone Lieutenant's from across the Local Group of Galaxies only aware of one another from sparse communication or hostile takeovers of territory. Each detested the other, wishing to overthrow the next rung up to grab more power. The ideology of Boskone encouraged treachery, backstabbing, and power grabs. Only the most ruthless and intelligent rose, the weak died.

As the group formed in the larger cavern, ones considered Boskone Majors and Colonels joined them, each in charge of large areas of Galaxy or industrial sectors. Where the top of the pyramid stopped, not even they knew.

Evil-Kirk took a seat on a rock outcropping, evil-Spock joined him, each shifting their eyes from side to side as more agents and commanders filed in. All manner of exotic and strange alien took up positions around the center, where a ghastly looking creature waited. Resembling a gigantic spider or snake with legs, it attached itself to the ceiling and floor, legs wrapping around hanging stalactites or cramping against the walls; its immense size concealed by shadow and its chaotic nature. Other aliens were carried in large aquatic chambers, entirely dependent on slaves to move them over land. Despite all their differences, one thing remained identical. The Black Lens. All exhibited one, either attached to an appendage or fused into a bulk of flesh or tendril.

Evil-Kirk studied the giant creature in the middle, he noted six Black Lenses around what he perceived to be its head. All pulsing and throbbing in a dull glow.

"Attention. Attention." came the thought wave from the giant insect. With so many diverse languages and communication styles, only the power of thought could reach them equally. The shuffling, slurping, and clicking came to a stop. Everyone and everything waited, watching others for weakness or opportunity. "I have summoned you here for a purpose. Each of you is assigned a certain task, in a certain galaxy or sector. I do not know some of you, as I am several levels higher than you are accustomed. Consider me a colonel." The actual word 'Colonel' only came to evil-Kirk and evil-Spock, the concept differing from alien to alien, but all conveying the same hierarchy concept.

The captain sent his mind into the crowd, searching for the one he received orders from since the beginning. His mind touching and sifting through the hundreds within the cavern.

 _There it is…_

Detecting the intrusion, a terse response bombarded evil-Kirk's mind.

 _Do not try it Kirk, or I will kill you dead..._

"Stop squabbling you moronic peons!" Came the mental blast from the central creature. It detected the back and forth between evil-Kirk and his commander and put a quick end to it. "You wretched imbeciles. Listen carefully. A spot has opened, one you each would consider a Major. Our El-Teenar commander was killed, he oversaw fifteen Lieutenants and approximately forty million operators and puppets. Most of you would not know of him of course... If you wish to have this position, you will have to kill his replacement. Baanadook." Its long leg lifted off the ground and pointed to a strange looking alien who resembled an octopus with legs. It seemed to bristle at the idea, and it flared its nostrils and looked around in contempt.

"So morons, listen carefully. The Milky Way Galaxy seems to have a bit of a pest control problem. Is that right Titik?"

Evil-Kirk recognized the next thought wave,

 _So my bosses name is Titik..._

"I have been reassured by my underlings the human Captain and Romulan Admiral that the virus has no future."

Jumping in to defend himself, a terse looking Romulan sent an angry telepathic reply,

"The Romulan Empire is building ships as fast as we can, but the virus is now taking away our merchant deliveries, we are short on supplies."

Evil-Kirk who argued on a regular basis for more resources and technology felt his face growing red with anger. His original assignment had been a complete success. To move the Rebels into the Milky Way. Capturing Ro Laren and programming her weak mind and primary computer systems came easy. Her story and journey easily luring the majority of the Rebel Alliance away from their key supports, allowing Teemar to do his work. There were many other assignments, the strangest of all the alliance with the Dalek's which he felt ran contrary to everything Boskone stood for. Nevertheless, he had succeeded, even rescuing the failed Cherno 44 base. And yet as he asked for more ships and resources to fight the outbreak, he hit a wall each time.

"I need a larger fleet!" Evil-Kirk's telepathic shout caught the attention of the giant insect. It stirred and moved its ten-foot head towards him.

"You are given what we can afford to give you, when we can afford to give it to you."

Evil-Spock stood and defended his friend,

"I find it puzzling that such an organization that I presume you run cannot allocate more than twenty-thousand ships. The virus spreads at an exponential rate, and it is highly illogical for you to allow it to continue. By my estimates, you-"

"SILENCE! BUG!" Blasted the creature. It adjusted itself and its Black Lenses flared and glowed as it communicated with higher echelons of control. "Keep them busy. Keep the Dalek's happy. That is your assignment. Under your watch, the Dalek's nearly lost their compound on some planet called Earth."

Titik, looking to brush off the criticism of his subordinates jumped in,

"Kirk, you were late delivering the canister, this has put us behind schedule."

"Our methods are covert, our communications are covert. Real-time updates are sometimes not possible."

Titik slobbered and glistened in the dim light,

"Do not lecture-"

A mental blast, then another slammed into the gelatinous blob of flesh. Evil-Kirk and Evil-Spock drilled and burrowed their way into the aliens subconscious, and despite Titik's efforts, could not stop the double-attack. Underlings tried to help but were quickly swatted away by the Romulan Lieutenant who also jostled and wrestled for control in the obliterated mind of the slug. Before the dead husk of a body could flop to the floor, it was all over. Evil-Kirk and Evil-Spock had absorbed the entire brain-knowledge of their boss as well as pushed the Romulan back, their overthrow to the next rank was a success.

"Respect. Power. Control. That is earned Captain Kirk. In some respects, you have earned some. But remember this, you are the caretaker of a small fraction of this operation, replaceable, pathetic," came the sharp warning from the central creature.

The giant insect moved its head closer, each of its fifty eyes a foot across, each blinking and concentrating on the evil captain. And in return, evil-Kirk bore into the central eye, he sent his mind forward to see what he could find. Both minds met in a clash of power, invisibly fighting and jostling for mental control. The Captain smashed and battered, he wanted to know what the creature knew, to learn all that he could. To the rest of the group, the time passed in less than a second, but between both man and creature, an eternity pressed on.

Unlike a Lensman who are mentored and taught the uses of the Lens, evil-Kirk did not remember how he obtained it, only that he had it. Learning as he went, he adjusted to his newfound ability and control. With each mind-to-mind encounter he grew stronger, wiser, craftier. Realizing he was no match for the snake-spider, he withdrew and remained silent for the rest of the meeting as the snake-insect finished its briefing.

"Listen underlings. My final thoughts. Each of you is highly intelligent, cunning, creative. We encourage you to best one another, this ensures an organic and natural talent pool. Remember. Absolute authority must be delegated to your lower echelons; otherwise things do not get done. We cannot have a bureaucracy, only a dictatorship is efficient enough to succeed in that which is soon to come."

 **Q Continuum**

To the untrained eye, the old style tavern appeared normal, hosting the mighty Q as they waited out the temporal storm. And yet as they sat, drank and discussed, the walls inched inward. Nearly imperceptible changes occurred along the baseboards and windows, outside pressure causing the room to shrink by the slightest of measurements.

Using a portion of their mental power to keep the walls at bay, the self-proclaimed omnipotents reinforced the foundations of the Continuum. The unnatural dimension formed with their minds billions of years ago where they could find solace and peace as they ruled unchallenged.

The boundless sweeps of reality continued in all directions, where things were no longer things, and places no longer places. And so it comes as no surprise the near gods did not know everything. Emphasizing this point, common-Q held in the palm of his hand a planet, it floated an inch above his skin, peaceful, unaware.

He studied it, rotating it with his fingers as it flickered and phased in and out of view. The screens surrounding the planet were formidable, able to stop even the powerful minds of the god-beings. He knew they could destroy it physically, but they could not study it, it seemed to be all or nothing.

Common-Q watched as thousands of hyperspace tubes erupted and subsided within the screens, sending information to other dimensions and places not privy to the gods. The tubes were mechanical in nature, and so their passage to other realms did not rely on thought, going where no Q could. Carrying what no Q could see.

The true masters of Boskone.

Planning, working, conceiving. Considered old even before the Q were young, they remained obscure, nearly ready to unleash their plan. Brought to this universe by the Dalek temporal explosion, they sought just one goal. Power. Absolute and total.

Their incredible latent minds now fully aware of the threats facing them, they worked tirelessly towards that end. They would not be fooled again, and as their old enemies knew and begrudgingly admitted, could not be beaten if fully informed.


	35. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Gravemind

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Kronos**

Even from orbit, toxic plumes of gas and spore mountains birthed through the cloud tops and revealed themselves to the naked eye. Resembling an overnourished rainforest of mutated vegetation, Flood biomass overran the cities and ensnared industrial structures across the planet. Oceans of organic bio-material covered what used to be land, with all life absorbed and consumed.

Shimmering Star Roads reflected the Kronos sun off their magical surface of energy made structure. Tendrils millions of kilometers long swayed slowly in the solar winds. Among them, flew thousands of ships, brought from infected worlds to help stand guard in case of attack. The Enterprise sat quietly in orbit, and far below, the Captain and Lensman ventured.

"You sure we don't need environmental suits Jimmy?" asked Kinnison as he pressed the elevator call button.

"If it wanted us dead, we would not have made it this far."

The lift carried the men deep into the former Klingon Empire, bunkers built hundreds of years ago lay buried across the planet. Jostling, clanking and squeaking, the old elevator shuddered downward, the horrid stench growing as they went. Kinnison's mind expanded outward, searching. Everywhere he felt a presence, the mutated Klingons and indigenous life all exhibited the same physic signature unlike anything he had encountered before. Instead of a mind he could touch and prod, he found nothing but glimpses, as if entering a room and trying to hold fog in your hand. Each room, or mind exhibiting the same haze. Images dissolved and realigned as he 'walked' through the thoughts of the Flood forms.

The door of the elevator opened and a stink of rotting flesh overcame their senses. Deposited over fifteen kilometers below the capital city, they walked through flickering lights and dark hallways, past grizzly blood stains and weapon scorch marks, finally stopping at the edge of a dark abyss. The bunker had been removed, and now the large chamber stretched deep into the planet. Empty.

"Gravemind! Come to me." Demanded Kirk from the edge of the dark chasm.

Silence.

The captain was about to open his mouth again when Kinnison grabbed his arm and signaled to be silent. In the dark, they heard something. Like a gigantic sack of meat being dragged along a rocky bottom, the sickly sound grew louder. From far below, something rose upwards towards them. Both men stepped back as the gigantic worm rose above the edge.

Fifty feet in diameter and miles long, the Gravemind revealed itself in the shadowy underground. Composed of millions of Klingon corpses, some still alive and murmuring in pain, the gigantic worm erected itself to full height and looked down upon its visitors.

Stone-faced, both men said nothing, their eyes searching for weakness and opportunity. A mouth resembling more of a maw opened at the end of the worm. Another mouth within snapped open and a million teeth became visible. Under closer inspection, Kinnison felt they were not teeth at all, but bone fragments from dead Klingon.

"To the beginning you have come. To return to your creator." The rough and unnatural voice of the gigantic Gravemind sent a shiver down the spine of both men.

Kinnison sent his mind forward, finding himself immersed in fog, deep in the consciousness of the giant creature. Images flashed past, and as he reached out to touch one, they shifted away, He heard a voice speaking to him, but he was not sure how. His telepathic-block was up, he felt no threat, but somehow the Graveminds thought signals were getting through. In the confusing void of thought, a voice.

"Lensman. Share with me everything you know,"

"Never." gritting down, Kimball sent a mental blast outward in all directions, the fog instantly disappeared and he stood in a dark empty space. His mind's eye peered into the darkness, and before long the mist crept along the floor towards him. He hit it again with another blast and it retreated. But before long, the consciousness of the Flood returned, it's abstract mind unable to resist the Lensman's blast, yet equally immune to a fatal blow.

In the real world, Kirk took a step forward,

"Gravemind. What is it that you want?"

"For all judged to return to the beginning, with us." Tendrils snapped forward and grabbed both men, lifting them off the ground and into the air where they hung like fruit. "We are the Creator. We brought you life."

"Not me! You did not create me! The Arisian's created us!" Shouted Kinnison as he struggled violently against the tendrils of recycled Klingon bodies. The eyeless Gravemind twisted its head to look towards the Lensman. Slurping and crunching bodies twisted and convulsed as the giant worm shifted and stewed.

"We judge only what we create. You are judged."

"What are you? Who are you? No more riddles" demanded the captain.

The world around Kirk disappeared; now flashing images and concepts he instantly understood raced past. The Precursors were the first conscious 'things' in existence in this and many other universes. For billions of years before galaxies formed, they traveled from dimension to dimension seeking out life in all its forms. And as they visited, they created life where there was none. They met the Q, also one of the firsts to exist.

Kirk felt Kinnison's mind beside his, both men watching the history of the universe for the first time.

Then Kim saw it. Arisia.

 _Jim… this thing is telling us it planted the seeds for the super race known to me as the Arisians. They then left to plant more life elsewhere. Never to return. The Arisians eventually created the Lensman which helped defeat Boskone._

"Share with me your mind Kimball Kinnison."

More scenery unfolded, the Precursors touching and shaping the galaxy of Star Wars and a thousand more as life blossomed from single cell organisms to complex creatures and beyond.

 _They are the creators…_ thought both men.

"We are the Creators," croaked the Gravemind. "... now see what you face."

Kirk and Kinnison found themselves suspended below the surface of a vast ocean. They broke the surface and gasped for air, around them a blue sea ebbed and flowed in the warm breeze. The metaphorical image showing the concept of what humans considered reality. On the waves rode humanity, mortals, and others. Kinnison and Kirk understood this, all around them thrived civilizations long gone and present. After bobbing on the surface for a while, each man ducked underwater and peered into the layer below the surface. Energy beings danced and twirled together as they swam along undetected by the surface goers. The Gravemind twisted its way through the murky waters, barely interacting with other creatures as it described its consciousness to both men. The Q beings were there as well,

"Our brothers. The firsts are with us below the surface."

Kirk and Kinnison soon found air and breath were not needed as both remained ten feet below the waves, watching the beings like schools of fish in a sea. Sunlight sprinkled down and the warm water seemingly massaging their muscles and joints.

"Gravemind. What do we face?"

"Kirk you already know…" replied the Gravemind.

Now the sun above the surface dimmed and the sparkling light faded from view. The duo felt as if they were sinking deeper, past the energy beings and down into the depths of blackness. Both men looked downward at the emptiness, for what felt like hours, perhaps more, they fell.

The surrounding water grew cold, penetrating their bodies and causing each to shiver. Far below, Kirk felt he saw something moving. Kinnison saw it too, they were fixated on the movement, it rose towards them, its immense size more apparent.

The Lensman was the first to guess,

"Is… that a… hand?" Kirk realized with horror precisely what it was, a gigantic hand. Massive comparatively to the energy beings far above, it rose towards them, ready to crush and devour their essence.

But not any hand.

The armored hand attached to an armored suit, and atop of it, a helmet, with one side smashed and a crimson eye glaring at them. Kinnison sent a mental bolt that ripped through the water like a torpedo. Downward the blast went, water whirling as it struck the forehead. The illusion changed shape as it accelerated upward, no longer a suited soldier, no longer their old friend. The hideous _something_ morphed, and just before Kirk and Kinnison were pulled from their dream, they each screamed in terror.

But it was over.

Both awoke, standing at the edge of the chasm, the Gravemind towering above, continuing its speech.

"Humanity shall survive. Kirk, your mind is open to us, we sense the possibility of danger. Your allies the Metrons are no more. Lensman. Open your mind to us, like all those brought back into our fold."

 _Wait, what?_

"The Metrons… are gone?!" Kirk could not believe it. Spock had questioned their silence, but the idea of their civilization being wiped out could not be conceived until now.

"Join with me now Captain, and learn." The world faded yet again, only this time, the captain found himself alone.

Millions of years ago in another universe, children of the Precursors turned against their masters and destroyed them. Feeling the need to experience death, the Precursors turned themselves to dust and spread themselves throughout dimension and galaxy. To be revived into the Flood where they would bring judgment to those they created.

Images of past civilizations came and went, great monoliths raised from the ground and energized out of the fabric of universal ether smashed fleets to atoms. By the trillions the Forerunners fell, absorbed into the whole that is the Flood. More and more revealed itself as Kirk witnessed galaxies consumed, races fighting desperate battles to stop their obliteration. As images raced past, he now saw the Klingons experimenting with the powder. Only to be destroyed by their quest to alter themselves.

 _You destroyed your own, just like you are doing now across the Milky Way._

"Earth's humanity has passed our test. In a hundred and one thousand centuries we shall return to reap judgment again."

Kirk watched Piett's fleet fall, and as it fell, Kirk felt more thoughts, the hundreds of thousands of Imperial officers turning into Flood forms.

 _You absorb their memories? You learn from them…_

"More than memories. Desires, fears, passions, they come into the whole. We see Boskone, we see the Dalek influence. As we consume we learn and we gain understanding."

 _Have you found the Daleks? Do you know where they are?_

"Soon. Only where they are not."

 _Do you know who runs Boskone?_

"Kimball Kinnison must open his mind."

More memories of victims flashed through Kirk's mind, and with those memories came the pain and suffering of their consumption; children, mothers, sick, and old. Wave after tremendous wave of emotions rushed into him, and in the darkroom where he now stood, he squeezed his hands into fists and closed his eyes.

 _I brought you here, it was MY call for help, MY ignorance… and yet… we need you, all life needs you. And as you take more and more, it brings you closer to solving the puzzle of the Dalek and Boskone organization._ Kirk's mind fell silent, and if a separation exists between the soul and mind, perhaps here it is displayed.

James T. Kirk, while receiving no specific mind-training, possessed something wholly unique. Now, as he had done in his past, he pushed the envelope within himself and shouldered his way into the Gravemind's indomitable will.

 _You. Must. Stop._

"We judge. We bring-"

 _I. Judge. You! Your child. Your offspring. How does it feel Gravemind? Look into me, look down deep and see your jury._

All images of victims instantly disappeared and now a towering creature appeared before the captain, not a Gravemind, but larger insectoid, with large tail and arms. A true Precursor.

"We asked if you wanted the Mantle of Responsibility, earned through wisdom and time. When you called through the Guardian of Forever, you did not ask the cost for salvation. So desperate for help, you did not stop to wonder if you should, only that you could."

 _Your flawed... twisted. You have lost the meaning of the Mantle. I know what it means now, I can see it, your moral compass is off the mark._ With much effort, Kirk expanded his 'being' and grew to face the large flat-headed creature, meeting face to face above the fog. _I reject your judgment upon others. Help us. We do not wish to live at another's expense. We will fight to the very end, but you…_ Kirk's over-dramatic face conveying the message far more than just the words. _You need to fight for all of us! Not only humans but aliens alike! Stop your expansion._

Kirk felt a flurry of emotions from the Precursor. Anger, amusement, judgment,

Doubt.

Kinnison appeared beside Kirk and both men looked at each other in the thought-waves of the Gravemind, the Lensman released his block and allowed the information of the Galactic Patrol and all things Boskone to flow forward. They knew this represented their only chance, to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight.


	36. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Only The Strong Survive

 **Imperial Galaxy - Coruscant**

A half-year is considered a long time when separated from your family, friends, and supporters. For six months, Princess Leia and Mon Mothma held the Rebellion together, pulling and maneuvering political favors and strings to stay relevant in a rapidly changing galaxy. Evolving in a way that they never expected, morphing into something opposite of what they knew the Emperor wanted. Capitalism, not socialism flourished in the outer worlds, spreading inward, the idea of building and creating wealth and power seemed infectious. Little in the way of support flowed from the resources of governments and organizations to the fledgling Rebellion now, with their navy deployed to the Milky Way, they lacked little military or clandestine capability. Planets and governments once loyal to the cause, recoiled as they did not want to upset their customers. Years ago, the concern would have been angering the Empire, but with the Imperial navy scattered and occupied, greed and all its consequences grew.

Initially, Leia and Mothma were hesitant to accept the Hutt's proposal to overthrow or perhaps counteract the Empire. Unfortunately as months wore on and resources dwindled, they saw little chance of exerting any influence in the coming years if they did not remain at the forefront of change. Reluctantly, they joined the Hutt's idea of overthrowing the capital government, the key question remained. When?

When is now.'

Sitting in a small booth in a cheap sports bar in the bowels of Coruscant, the two rebellion leaders sat quietly, drinking, and waiting. In the surrounding district, disguised as locals, hid the last of the Rebellion soldiers. Loyalists to the end, they knew this mission could and most likely would be their last.

In the restaurant, TV's played the latest sports events and news topics, the Princess sipped her cold drink and her eyes narrowed in on those coming and going.

"The Hutts said our contact would be here,"

Smoke from various forms of cigarette or foreign substances waffled up into the air and crept along the ceiling. Through the gloomy atmosphere and low light, Leia eyed each facial expression.

Mothma, not a fighter but a political activist did not share the same clandestine edge of the princess and relied heavily on her to manage the coming hours. The Hutts had successfully attacked the Deathstar's production complex and most likely, according to the best minds in the rebellion had destroyed the Kuat Drive Yards. Mothma and Leia knew they needed to stay relevant, and so could not pass up the opportunity presented to them. An overthrow of the capital, with Mothma reclaiming the Senate seemed to be the best plan. Emperor Palpatine and Vader were known to be gone, and so with troops loyal to the Hutts and the rebellion, they set their eyes upon the main Senate chamber.

"Princess…" a young man approached their table, small, thin, he looked like a teenager rather than a crew member or operator of the Hutt's gang. Leia looked up slowly, trying to maintain her low profile. "I am Wiseman. Have your team-"

"Tell your boss to come see me, I don't deal with errand boys," she said cooly, interrupting the young man and returning to her drink and small chatter with Motha. Wiseman's face contorted in anger and he grabbed hold of the Princess's wrist. Despite his young age, his determination to be 'top dog' existed live and well. Leia tried to pull away but could not, he came down to her level, grinning like an anxious shark.

"I am the top dog." The two were nose to nose, but Wiseman being too preoccupied with showing his dominance did not notice the sharp fork being snatched by her other hand. Plunging deep into his shoulder blade, Wiseman reeled back in agony, releasing his grip and scampering towards the door.

"Leia!" hissed Motha, "Was that a good idea?"

Taking another sip and placing the fork down on the table, Leia knew the Hutts needed them severely for this operation, with their political ties in the capital, they could garner support quickly once things unfolded. As Leia reassured Mothma, she noticed her leader and friend looking towards the doorway, a look of concern across her face. Glancing towards the door, the princess instantly recognized the shape in the dim light.

"Teemar..."

The colossal Romulan stalked towards them, easily pushing patrons aside, Wiseman in tow, still holding his injured shoulder.

"Princess Leia…" chuckled Teemar as he approached the table. He towered above them like a bag of wet rocks; muscle hidden by layers of fat shifted and moved as he stopped before them. "How nice to see you."

Leia looked him over, and then towards Wiseman who stood defiantly behind him.

"I see your dog didn't run too far,"

Teemar let loose a hearty laugh, his belly jiggling as he glanced menacingly over his shoulder to his young peon.

"Oh, yes, I am sorry about the young pup. I'll make sure he doesn't treat you like that again."

Lightning quick and as strong as a piston, Teemar's hand snapped outward and grabbed young Wiseman's neck. He pulled him forward to face the princess and Mothma, the teenager doing everything he could to break the grip of the hotdog sized fingers and catcher's mitt palm.

"Wiseman, you do not treat royalty like this… do you know that?" Teemar's words oozed out of his mouth, sweat already forming on his forehead started its slow crawl towards his neck. "There are consequences you know…" Patrons around the bar paid little attention, down so low in the bowels of society on Coruscant, roughhousing was commonplace.

Wiseman stopped struggling, perhaps sensing a savage beating. He immediately concentrated on the Romulan's grip and arm. He brought his hand up high and came down as hard as he could on the elbow joint. As he came down, Teemar wrenched him forward and his basketball sized head came nose to nose with the adolescents face.

"Do you think you can challenge me? Fool!"

Wiseman threw a punch that connected squarely on the jawline of Teemar. His head barely moved, a menacing smile clearly visible as he looked back towards Leia and Mothma.

"Ladies, you'll have to excuse this kid, he will never do this again." Leia's face changed to grave concern, she did not like the young man but felt he was only learning the ways of the underground and did not want anything to happen to him besides a stern talking.

Turning back towards Wiseman, Teemar rose to full height and at the same time lifted his underling off the ground, now coughing and wheezing as he fought desperately for air. Teemar's knee plowed into his stomach, the sickly sound conveying broken internal organs and bone. Mothma jumped at the brutal attack and pushed herself further into the bench seat. Dark blood pooled out of Wiseman's mouth as he fought for consciousness. Teemar shoved him backward, causing him to careen into a table and chair a few feet away.

He never moved again.

"Now, Princess, Mothma… where were we?" His cholesterol-filled finger running down the side of Leia's face as he pulled up a chair to their table. "Ah yes, your team. It's too small. You do not have enough people for this."

Mothma's eyes locked with Teemar's, she wondered how he could know that. Rebel teams hidden within this district should not have been known to him or the Hutts. Unwavering, his glassy eyes moved between both women, utterly sure of his own abilities, he feared nothing from them. He had only one fear, letting down his boss.

"We have enough, the guards in the Senate chamber are almost non-existent," murmured Mothma, still shocked at the fate of Wiseman.

"I should have been more clear. I do not have enough to take on the main government building where the Imperial Command operates. You will have to split your rebels into two groups."

"What!" Hissed Leia, her face flushed red and fists clenched. "We were told by the Hutts that we only had to take care of the chamber and that you people would take care of the rest!" Trying to keep her voice down, she could not help but feel a sense of danger, a last-second change could cost them everything.

She jabbed her finger into the arm of Teemar,

"You or the Hutts screwed up. We were told in the messages you would have five hundred soldiers to rush the command building." As the Princess leaned in, Mothma could not believe the attitude her younger friend displayed.

Teemar waved off her concerns with a dismissive hand,

"It is now or never. I have the power stations under my control. I can cut the power, but only you can storm the buildings. We cut the power in thirty minutes."

Leia and Mothma looked at one another, both displaying a nervousness and sense of excitement. If the plan worked, then all their work and sacrifice would have paid off. Both missed their companions who left for the other galaxy, Leia missed Han more than ever.

 _If only Han and Luke were here..._

"Teemar, we burned those drugs you know... the crates and boxes you brought us. We know it is you who is supplying the outer worlds."

The Romulan's eyes narrowed at the comment,

 _More resourceful than I thought..._

"We are the same Princess. We want to overthrow the government. We want to bring back the old system. Where people could be free."

Ignoring his remark, Leia gulped down the last of her drink and discreetly cocked her blaster hidden under her robe.

"Thirty minutes," she said coolly.

Anger bubbled inside the Romulan,

"I could kill you in a second."

"I know. But I thought you wanted to beat me."

No one said another word for a long moment, then Teemar pulled himself to his feet, the table shifting and glasses clacking. He looked at both women and smiled,

"Long live the Republic."

Mothma and Leia slid out of their seats, Leia trying to shove Teemar as she passed but the immovable Romulan stood fast. Instead, she ended up pushing herself out of the way, and he looked down upon her devilishly, his eyes shining in the dull light. Moving quickly towards the exit, both Rebel leaders stopping for a second to look at the dead Wiseman, still laying on the floor in a pool of dark blood. Teemar twisted around and looked at both women exit the establishment, a grin forming along his huge face.

"That is why you are still alive Princess. To fully appreciate your defeat," murmured the Romulan.

As the two exited, Teemar felt his ultra-wave receiver buzz, and he looked down at the message,

[[

Emergency Meeting

Ramoose Building - 232 Floor, Penthouse 8

Come Alone

]]

After twenty minutes, Teemar entered the dark room of the skyscraper. Overlooking the sprawling Coruscant, its fifty-foot bay windows reflected the city life far below. As he walked into the room, he saw two figures standing at the windows chatting, but that is not all. Against the dark walls he felt eyes staring at him, judging him,

"Teemar come quickly."

Quickening his pace, he moved towards the windows, and as he drew closer, the men standing became instantly recognizable.

 _Kirk… and Spock…_

The lights from the sky and other buildings provided just enough light to see their faces, Teemar stopped in front of them and nodded to each.

"Your plan is working. Very good. Doctor McCoy's work to resuscitate you from the Dalek weapon was not in vain. I hate when he wastes time," said Evil-Kirk without smiling or displaying any emotion whatsoever. "There is a change of plan. The Virus approaches this planet." Evil-Kirk turned away and faced the large window, Teemar standing quietly behind him with Evil-Spock to his side, the black lens glowing as he communicated with operators across the planet. "How many power stations can you shut off?"

Teemar took a moment to think, the plan had called for eight, but he controlled more.

"Fifteen."

Evil-Kirk spun around, his face savage.

"Not good enough. Lower your mind screen."

As he did so, like a gate holding back flood water, he felt a tremendous surge of voices and flurry inside his brain. Evil-Kirk raised his arm and snapped his fingers towards the dark walls. No longer displaying a single black lens, but two, Each strapped to the same wrist on separate bands. They glowed and pulsed as the footfalls of sauropods clumped forward. Teemar turned his head and out of the shadows came living dragons, otherwise known as Overlords of Delgon. Fifteen feet tall, walking on their hind legs, their T-Rex skulls and long whipping tales chomped and slobbered, and in his mind he felt them. Scratching at his memories and plans, he grabbed his head and screamed in pain. They dug in, pulling and prodding all that they needed to complete the new mission. After a few seconds of mental anguish, they released him and returned to the darkness of the penthouse suite.

"Wha… what is going on?" Asked the exasperated Teemar, hunched over and holding his legs with his hands.

"A fleet of infected ships approaches Coruscant. This planetary shield is inefficient. We are going to install a new one. When your team cuts the power, we will cut the stations across the entire planet and link our new shield to the power grid. Do not worry, the Rebels will find themselves in the same quagmire you orchestrated for them. The internal cameras are set to record their entrance despite the power cut." Reported Evil-Spock matter of fact. His Lens glowed as he spoke, able to communicate by mind and speech at the same time. "The Youth Imperial Class is waiting for the rebels entrance, and will be killed by the Overlords as soon as the walls are breached. Their deaths will be broadcast galactically, and the Rebels will be blamed. As Captain Kirk has already said. Your work is satisfactory."

Teemar looked out the window and towards the Imperial Command building where he had organized the junior imperial class to be present. Consisting of five-hundred children between the ages of 7 and 10, he knew that if the Rebels could be blamed for their deaths, all political will would evaporate for their cause.

Evil-Spock began the countdown to the power cut,

"Ten seconds...9...8...7...6….5...4...3…"

Evil-Kirk pointed with his finger towards an Overlord, his lens flaring wildly as he managed the plan. "Teemar... this is your plan. The Rebels better rush in or you are as dead as the children."

A lump the size of an orange slid down the Romulan's throat. Despite being the best goon in the galaxy, he was only that. A goon. A goon's goon.

Power generators cut and the vast and sprawling metropolitan winked out. Overlords roared in exhilaration as they blasted the minds of the children waiting behind the walls. The workers of power stations not under the control of Teemar became instantly enslaved to their wills and all stations now powered down, and for the first time in its long history, Coruscant became entirely still.

Evil-Kirk's mind spread outward, thanks to the additional black lens taken from Titik, his former boss, he could sense beyond his vision. Not yet equal to Kinnison in power of thought, he still struggled with his newfound ability. But it was enough, the Rebels had fallen for the trap. He saw them rushing through the dark hallways, blasting stormtroopers as they went, but as they rounded a corner, the explosion to breach the building had 'miraculously' killed the entire class of juvenile imperial cadets. And in one last fateful act, a mentally controlled Princess Leia screamed venom into the crowd of dead children.

"That is what you deserve!" Evil-Kirk sneered as he released his telepathic control and returned to the penthouse room.

"The rebels are now finished. If they live or die today it does not matter, they are outcasts now thanks to the recording footage inside the chamber. Today and forever, they are no more."

Evil-Spock concurred, he saw no ability for them to recover their once significant sympathy now that Boskone's new ideology grew on many thousands of planets. Breaking the trio's conversation, Evil-Scotty rushed into the room, yelling and hollering about connection pipes.

"Those morons! Those complete morons! They hooked up the wrong energy tubes,"

Evil-Kirk mentally extracted what he needed from his chief engineer and grabbed Teemar by the arm,

"Get down to section eight. They hooked up the wrong pairs, get down there and fix it!"

"On my way!" Roared Teemar as he headed towards the door, Evil-Scotty just behind.

 _Overlords! Decrease the populations fear, increase their patriotism, will them to fight the infection!_

Comparing a Lensman to an Overlord is equivalent to comparing a tornado to a hurricane. The former, a scalpel of incredible power, able to pinpoint and manipulate at a delicate level or ferocious scale. The latter, a wide-ranging storm, able to project mental power throughout an entire solar system.

 _Tell planetary security to stand down...here comes our ships._

Through the dark sky, enormous industrial barges from another galaxy appeared with underslung power generators the size of stadiums. Hyper-matter reactors, tweaked by the Masters of Boskone and sent down through the chain of command arrived by the dozen. Ships with landing skids the size of buildings crushed whatever they touched as they brought their cargo to the surface. More than material, shielded mechanized troops from a thousand worlds rushed down the lowered doors into the streets. Pedestrians who would typically flee stood shoulder to shoulder, influenced by the Overlords to stand and fight. Not knowing yet which they faced, only the desire to stand tall and ready enveloped their fragile minds.

Machines ripped apart buildings for component materials before constructing new machines, which went on to create more. Furnaces hotter than the sun smelted and boiled necessary sheets of durasteel and poly-plastics to embolden the defensive effort. All this coming from technology and know-how of much higher intelligence. Gigantic structures assembled in record time, atomic furnaces were blasted in, and all manner of defensive weaponry came online.

Fake and real news broadcast to all Imperial barracks of the danger they would soon face, the Flood would arrive soon and everyone needed to be aware. Mass manipulation and carefully orchestrated plots and sub-plots hatched in all necessary installations and divisions. After several hours Evil-Kirk saw green turbolaser bolts flying into the sky.

 _It has begun. The Plague ships have arrived. Overlords. Concentrate all your efforts on the virus, do not stop until you are dead, or they are._

The Captain looked down at his hand, he took a moment to appreciate the double black lenses he fashioned. _More will be captured, more will fall to my strength._ He brought his hand up and clenched it into a fist. Both lenses flared brilliantly as he pushed his mind into the fray.

Materializing out of the slipstream, infected ships immediately attacked the planetary defenses. The Flood fleet which had destroyed Piett's, including captured Star Destroyers, rained destruction down upon the planet. Explosions the size of small mountains illuminated the distant horizon. Down in the streets, Imperial Troopers fought side by side with the Boskone mechanical machines as Flood forms burst from the sewers and alleys.

Back in the penthouse suite, Evil-Spock watched several screens detailing the battle,

"It appears the infected ships can penetrate our transporter scramblers," but Evil-Kirk's mind existed elsewhere, blasting the foggy consciousness out of a pair of infected sisters on the street. Like Kinnison on Kronos, he found he could only push the consciousness away before it eventually returned. This caused the mutated form to collapse and lay still until the Precursor consciousness resumed, sometimes a minute, in other cases more.

Deep inside the strangeness that was the Flood's mind, Evil-Kirk found himself standing in a dark room with fog retreating into the walls. Nothing of interest occupied the space, four black walls and a door with a golden handle. He reached for it and suddenly he was outside the room, in a long hall with fog drifting through his feet. He eyed it carefully, despite his manic and evil attitude, he still possessed all the cunning and intelligence of his warmer, kinder self. Holding up his hand he sent all his energy into the two lenses, causing a shockwave to propagate outward, blasting down walls and doors alike. Evil-Spock joined him now, both looking around into the darkness and oddity. The emptiness perplexed them, on the surface nothing seemed to be there. That is until a new door formed before them, standing alone in the darkness, it's white color and gold handle inviting them to open it. Carefully, the evil captain touched the handle, he froze.

He felt, or perhaps saw something in his mind. Himself. His alter ego which had convinced _**his**_ Spock to overthrow him. He held the handle, unmoving, watching and feeling the images in his head. He saw himself on the other side of the door arguing with the Gravemind. He felt the passion, the raw power of the mind that his alter ego commanded.

 _Is this happening now? Somewhere else? Or a memory? He's trying to stop the spread…_ For a moment he considered the actions weak, but only for a second. He knew better. He felt his alter-ego's mind. _Equal to my own... at least without the lenses…_ then another entered the dreamlike state, _THE LENSMAN!_ Before he could remove his hand from the door it burst open and both his good alter ego and Kinnison rushed through. Realizing the danger, Evil-Kirk disconnected himself, pulling his compatriot along. Now they stood back in the penthouse, unsure of what had happened or why. After a moment, Evil-Kirk began to feel something, a memory or feeling absorbed in his brief stint within the haze.

 _Bones… Spock. He is friends with them even in that universe… he's afraid to lose them… or someone else… Cienna…_ Stopping for a moment, he looked over at Evil-Spock who returned his gaze. He wondered what it would feel like to lose one of them, or any of the women who had come and gone in his life. Yet somehow he dwelled on it, he felt his alter ego, the anger, the regret, the passion. _That is not a weakness… he is a formidable opponent… he is me, and I am him. The same. But different._ After a few moments of reflection, anger swelled inside him as the booming and blasting of the battle echoed loud.

Switching gears, he instantly thought of his support,

 _Where the hell is the rest of our fleet? Is Admiral Katari leaving me out to dry?_ Evil-Kirk's greatest fear was a backstab from another high-ranking Boskone officer. The small force he currently commanded could not hold for long. The Captain had rushed to Coruscant to begin defensive preparations, he felt speed was more important than power. And with speed came the sacrifice of size, he did not have time to prepare his large task force. And so now he waited for assistance. Worry turned to rage at the thought of the betrayal.

 _Spock, any word on Katari?_ _If he backstabs me… I have twice the fleet he has!_ And as he asked, two-THOUSAND hyperspace tubes erupted within the Coruscant system. Ships the size of small continents moved like whales through the energized mouths of the exotic portals. Designed and produced by higher-echelon levels, they bristled with firepower and defensive screens. Immediately they opened up on the Flood ships and a light show of a million aurora borealis cascaded down onto the planet.

 _Kirk, this is Admiral Katari, you better hold that planet. I get ten percent of the ore industry. If you do not listen to me, I'm afraid you might not make it._

 _I'll blast you into oblivion!_ Evil-Kirk sent his mind straight at black lensman Katari who pushed back with all his effort. Their will's fought an invisible battle, wrestling and driving at one another, each determined to overwhelm the other.

 _There is no time for this Kirk, we... must -fight the infection!_

 _There is always time for more POOWWEERRRRR!_

Aboard the Mauler-Class vessel, Admiral Katari fell to his knees and screamed, he could not hold back the savage attack for much longer. Inside his mind he could feel himself losing grips with reality, his identity and knowledge being drained. Moments felt like hours, and soon the Admiral would be nothing more than a rewritten slave, to do as Evil-Kirk commanded.

But not today.

Back on Coruscant, Evil-Kirk's telepathic attack came to an abrupt halt. A powerful concussive blast ripped through the illustrious room. Glass shattered, and the howling wind swept through the room as pressure equalized from the dizzying heights of the penthouse suite. Fifty floors below, a Flood ship had smashed straight into the building, shot down by Evil-Kirk's Enterprise fighting low in the atmosphere.

"Sulu to Captain, Sulu to Captain."

"What is it!?" Shouted Evil-Kirk, grasping a gaping wound in his left shoulder. His green uniform blood-soaked, the blood trickling down his arm and over his black lens-bands.

"Looks like the plague ships are zeroing in on your location. The fleet is knocking them out of the sky, but we are also taking losses. Admiral Katari has-"

"I know!" Bellowed the captain, now regaining his balance from the assistance of his first officer. "Sulu. You shoot anything that comes through the atmosphere. If they land you target them in the cities." Cutting the line, Evil-Kirk sent his mind down the stories of the building,

 _There are hundreds of them, they are spreading… Overlords! Concentrate on the mutations below. Spock and I will deal with them kinetically._ Heavy motors and grinding metal sounded as mechanical suits in the far room came to life. Transported in hours ago, the captain and Spock would need to use them to fight off the raging inferno of flesh and disease festering below.

Across the sky in all directions, energy blasts crisscrossed in a deadly dance of dominance. Green, blue, purple, red, and another dozen colors splashed and ebbed. Flood ships by the hundred entered the atmosphere, met savagely by the Boskone force. Evil-Kirk's and Admiral Katari's fleets worked together to try and vaporize any falling pieces that may contain mutated spores or chunks of flesh. Somewhere, a superatomic warhead hit the surface and a blast a thousand miles across vaporized countless souls too helpless to save themselves. This was no ordinary fight, unlike other worlds where the populace ran in great uncivilized migrations, Boskone fought hard, and with the help of Overlords, the population joined the effort.

As spore pods crash landed into the cities, MILLIONS of Boskone soldiers came down with them; streets on every corner of the globe transformed into a battlefield. Weapons never brought to bear were now ferried quickly to the front lines. High above, the Gravemind fought to maintain control of its forces, the telepathic attacks wreaking havoc on its micromanagement. More ships now came out of erupting hyperspace tubes, carrying the remains of the Melkotian civilization. Mind-waves smashed into the Star road, the fibers of universal ether flickering and dazzling as the Gravemind fought to keep them intact.

Back on Coruscant, a mile below ground, Teemar tossed a useless worker aside as he grabbed the connection tube and jammed it into the transceiver. Evil-Scotty stood close, programming the relay terminal so the atomic-shield could come online. The small seldom used relay junction sat in the middle of a maze of small access tunnels no larger than a man.

"Move!" Another worker hit the wall as Teemar shoved him aside to grab the second connector. As his oversized fingers prepared the attachment, screams and weapons fire echoed from far off. Scotty and Teemar both looked at each other, they knew, the Flood had infiltrated the tunnel network. "I'll hold them off,"

"You better!" Shouted Evil-Scotty as he continued to program the terminal. Teemar's eyes flared, every bone in his body wanted to smash the engineer's face in. But that was Kirk's engineer, he could not, dared not. Running past, he drew his Delameter pistol and set it to maximum power. Up ahead the flickering lights played games with his eyes. Shouting and blasting could be heard, but in the small confines and blind corners of the tunnel system, anything could happen. Minutes ticked past and the yelling became sparse. Soon only the roar and disgusting oozing of the Flood forms could be heard.

ZAP!

Teemar let loose and a column of Flood vaporized into their component atoms,

ZAP!

Another discharge and the follow-up force puffed into nothingness. Behind, Evil-Scotty shouted at workers to assist him in the installation. Like worker ants, the junior Boskone operators naturally followed orders, unable to determine their own direction in such a wild and crazy atmosphere. Several feet away, Teemar struggled to see through the dark and flickering tunnel when a blaster bolt smacked into the support column to his right. Another series of impacts caused the fat-man to haul his substantial bulk to one side. Infected stormtroopers were now rushing forward, with strange appendages working their way through their white armor. Bolt after bolt sparked durasteel plating and chunks of polycrete exploded from the walls under the bombardment. Hidden, Teemar tried to guess how close the wave of mutations was, but each time he stuck his head out to look, a powerful blast would cause him to pull back.

"Scotty, how much longer?!" Shouted the Romulan over the noise,

"Shut up!"

Zap!

Another line of Flood vaporized, but more came. Crisscrossing tunnels, not in the Romulan's field of view, brought more abominations to the battle. Great slurping snakes of mutated cells wormed their way through the smaller passages, one appearing right above Teemar. He screamed in surprise while at the same time firing his weapon. Pieces of ceiling collapsed downward, and debris and dust waffled into the air. It felt like the end had come, trapped in a labyrinth of tunnels, all men felt the grizzly proximity of death.

"For damn blazes! Keep them back ya stupid idiot!" Screamed Scotty a dozen feet away. The veteran engineer's fingers worked as quickly as humanly possible, desperately trying to tie-in all available hypermatter reactor chambers. He did not know or care how the battle was going high above, he needed to finish the mission. Glancing between his command and slave terminal, he recognized the final steps, he felt close.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

More infected stormtrooper rounds burst fragments all over the job site. After a few explosions, a sharp piece of metal pierced the engineer's right thigh. He screamed in pain and clutched the bloody wound. Teemar rushed over and grabbed the Scotsman and shoved him back onto the terminal.

"We need to get those connectors up!" he screamed. Spit and drools spraying all over Scotty's face. Then, down the tunnel he heard a tremendous 'slap' as all Flood forms fell to the ground at once. They twisted and twirled, finally becoming still under the power of the Overlords. Only able to keep the Precursor consciousness at bay for so long, Teemar went to work and began blasting them. But all around, in thousands of meters of surrounding tubes, more came, and behind them, even more.

As the Overlord's power refocused on other groups, the remaining Flood forms began to stir, scrambling to their feet and continuing their onward push towards the control junction. As the fat Romulan took aim for another sweep of his Delameter, the entire tunnel exploded inward. A woosh of wind flattened his hair and raised his hand to cover his exposed face. Then he heard a familiar noise, the grinding and whirring of motors and pistons.

 _Our Mechs!_

Evil-Kirk and Evil-Spock unloaded everything they had telepathically and kinetically into the vile blobs. Having defeated the Flood ships contents in the penthouse building, Spock had thought it a good idea to head towards the junction point.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

WOOSH! WOOSH! WOOSH!

High explosive rounds and insanely hot lasers cut deep into the lines, and as they fought they tore through more walls to expose other Flood forms scurrying about. Teemar ran back towards Evil-Scotty and helped jam the last connector into the link.

"Captain! We got it!" Shouted Scotty into his communicator, the distance too great to shout.

An atomic shield engulfed the planet, and despite the Flood's best efforts, could not bypass it via slipstream entry or teleportation techniques. Ships attempting to re-enter the universe beneath the shield found themselves blocked from the very ether that is reality. Designed by far smarter beings than that of men, the shield blocked everything, thought-waves included.

High above the planet, carried in the center of the Star road, the Gravemind pondered this unique problem. It knew the spawn already on Coruscant could cause havoc, but the enemy force fought feverishly, and without support may not succeed in a planet-wide takeover. To emphasize the point, a massive explosion rocked the western hemisphere of a small continent, a spore mountain had been bombed to oblivion before it could form and spew toxic seeds into the air.

 _I sense the possibility of danger_ It communicated to its command and control A.I systems that had been converted months ago from various worlds. The computer systems, hopelessly yet expertly corrupted and compromised responded,

[[Probability of hostile force overcoming the Star road is 2.3%. We recommend a direct assault upon the new shield with the tendrils]]

The Gravemind with its unimaginable intelligence considered all things.

It's fleet lay nearly destroyed by the overwhelming Boskone force erupting nonstop from the hyperspace tubes, of which it could not access or block. Additionally, the new shield capable of preventing it's slipspace maneuvers meant no reinforcements could join the planetary takeover. Atop of all these developments, telepathic attacks grew stronger every minute. It knew of Captain Kirk's alternative iteration, sending attack thoughts into its own consciousness and digging and prodding from within. Never in the dozen galaxies consumed in its long twisted life had such terrific opposition stood against its might.

But not all was lost.

Thousands of black lensman fought and died on the surface of Coruscant, being absorbed into the consciousness and soul of the Precursors. Soon it would know the location of the Dalek's if not directly, but by the eliminations of unknowns.

With the Flood ships destroyed, Boskone Heavy-Mauler's pinpointed their ultra-beams into the whirling tendrils of the Star road. Damage, superficial and moderate attested to their precise targeting. But that was ok, defeat was ok. Telepathic attacks initially from Melkotians were joined by Overlords on the surface. Star road tendrils spasmed, their essence maintained by the Precursors thoughts. Overlords, black lensman, and Evil-Kirk pushed hard, and just before the Gravemind's inevitable destruction, it withdrew its consciousness; the Precursor essence finally deciding on its own ponderance.

On Coruscant, like dew on an autumn morning, the Flood vanished into dust. Silence fell upon the world. The expansion was over, only the Dalek's remained.

Across the void, still connected to the Gravemind on the Klingon homeworld Kronos, a message entered the Captain's mind.

 _James. T. Kirk. The weight of this decision is on you, show us what you believe to be right and good._ _Our children shall live. We have located the Dalek menace. We will organize all our forces for a surprise attack. The last battle cometh_


	37. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Masters of Boskone

 **Unknown Location - Planet Eddore**

Older than old, before the Q, Precursors, or Arisians.

From a Universe long collapsed, before any others had formed, the Eddorians grew, fought, and lived. Alone for eons unend, they felt only one impulse, then and now. Power. Absolute and forever. War without end consumed their planet, not for a year, or a decade, but all time. Each Eddorian a metaphysical substance, able to bend, shape, and manipulate its body for any necessary task. Life spans of such beings were measured in thousands of centuries, after which the mind and body split into two. Retaining all the memories of its former self, the two continued in their quest for power until one was killed or divided hundreds of thousands of years later.

After endless years, when no Eddorian could slay another, an armistice formed. Immediately, a democratic style of governance was ruled out, the concept of checks and balances seemed like a waste of resources and deemed inefficient by the survivors. Dictatorship offered the only reasonable choice, and so a slightly more powerful, and marginally more ruthless Eddorian became the All-Highest. Surrounded by his Inner Circle, they sought new life to control beyond their own Universe. With mind and machine, they traveled through dimension until they reached one where life would soon grow. The Arisians, who were already present, detected their entry from another plethora of reality and promptly set to task their two billion year covert war. Able to see the future, the Arisians realized if the Eddorians were to become aware of their presence, the war would not end in a stalemate. The Arisians saw their own demise, and so they snatched the knowledge of their existence from the Eddorian minds before a proper defense could be raised. Blissfully unaware of the Arisian threat, the Eddorians sat supreme at the top of the galaxies, blind to their real enemy.

Superior in mind, but not machine, the Arisians decided to create the Galactic Patrol to be their method of influence. Lensman who were products of the Patrol helped bring order throughout space. For only the power of mind could kill the Eddorians. Like the Arisians, physically destroying them brought no benefit.

But even Lensman and Arisians were not enough to break through the atomic thought-screens raised by Eddore. And so, isolated on their world and discovering the real threat too late to mount a counter, the Eddorians watched the painful erosion of their influence come to pass. Faced with the prospect of complete defeat, the Eddorians saw an opportunity to rebuild. With their forces smashed, a tear in space-time rippled throughout known reality. They had already captured Kimball Kinnison in a trap. Inside the hyperspace tube, the tiny pod pushed the second stage Lensman to the boundaries of reality; only to be wrenched into a new Universe by a detonating Dalek Time Destroyer. Taking advantage of the situation, the Eddorians moved their planet into the hyperspace tube which erupted into the Milky Way's Beta Quadrant a year ago. Intercepted by Borg cubes and Imperial probes, the Eddorians effortlessly destroyed both parties before moving their planet onward.

Without interference from the Arisians, and able to fully digest the situation, they set to work on creating a new ruling Empire. They knew the temporal winds would eventually pass, allowing Arisian minds to follow them through what only mechanics could.

Here is a brief interpretation of the planetary fusion of minds weeks after setting foot into this reality.

"Attention all Eddorians, join us in the Inner Circle. As you now know, we have moved into a new Universe, where the Arisians and their pesky Galactic Patrol have no influence. We believe that in two years the temporal winds will subside and allow our greatest enemy passage. As before, we must build a network, layer upon layer with absolute authority delegated. This ensures growth and influence at the maximum possible rate. There is no limit. All layers must be accountable to the higher, able to be focused at a moments notice by whatever means the operators have set up. Each Eddorian will be assigned a strategic goal, those who succeed will advance, those who fail will die."

"We have sought to learn who dwells in this new realm."

"We must be careful not to expose ourselves past the screens, the Arisians may not know precisely where we exited hyperspace. The more we travel beyond Eddore, the greater chance they detect us."

"We concur."

"What of the Lensman?"

"Immaterial. He is stranded here. Alone and without the Arisians for guidance. He will perish of old age."

And so it went for months until an operator came across the Alpha Quadrant, where other space disturbances had occurred. One exceptional operator reported the possibility of the very creature that designed the temporal blast. The name of the operator.

Captain James T. Kirk.

Located in his home universe by a high-level Boskone commander by way of Federation records, the entire 'mirror' Federation fell to Boskone almost overnight. But the higher-ups took to Evil-Kirk immediately, giving him the power of the black lens and to task him with fulfilling the complex Eddorian plan. No one knew the entirety of the master plan save those on Eddore, but pieces moved and shifted as designed. The Daleks rightfully suspected more intelligent races must run the Boskone group, but they did not know, and still do not know the full extent.

Eddorians discovered the full plan of the Dalek by plundering all that they could from its fleshy mind early on. This represented the one and only time their consciousness drifted past their screens. So powerful are the minds of the Eddorians, they can travel Universes and read and rewrite the thoughts of any sentient being save that of a Q.

Regarding the Q, the Inner Circle learned of them through the Dalek, and a directive had been given. To protect the Dalek until the superweapon could be built, the final piece, created on Eddore and away from the prying eyes of the Q beings. Eddore ensured the Dalek's did not realize the error in their construction, and would deliver the missing mechanism to them just before usage. As it stood, the weapon still worked, but fine-tuning of principal components was necessary for full effect. If successful, the superweapon could be duplicated and used against the Arisians. Their ultimate enemy.

But one aspect of the plan did not at first sit well with them.

The Old Ones.

Like the Q, the Eddorians found it preposterous that such things could exist, in places unseen and unknown. Far beyond, where no hyperspace tube could reach, before time started and after it stopped. And yet as they debated and learned, past errors caused them to consider it possible. Seeded deep into every Eddorian mind was the concept of learning from mistakes, necessary for the strongest to survive from billions of years of war. The Daleks planned to release the Old Ones into the Q Continuum, and so the plans were drawn to address this circumstance.

The All-Highest felt the Flood to be nothing more than a pest, with his senior commanders assigning only a fraction of resources to combat it. No cure could be found, but that did not concern the Eddorians. At the appropriate time, the plague would be dealt with harshly and severely.

Presently and endlessly, the Inner Circle debated the situation,

"It spreads to more than half the Milky Way Galaxy. Our best estimates put the viral fleet at half a million ships. Their method of infection allows for only a single spore to land in a populated area, and within a day the planet is consumed. Our low level commanders are fighting it nonstop, keeping it busy. Coruscant, a planet far from here is the latest example. Our General-operators say it is important, and that we almost lost it."

"No single planet is important. No single galaxy is important." Countered the All-Highest, "...only our master plan. Xyit Compound 823 will be complete in days, the Dalek's must be protected. We still do not know the true motives of the virus. Obviously intelligent, we cannot risk probing its mind so close to the destruction of the Q. Beyond the shield we are susceptible to attack."

"Do you believe the Q can harm us mind to mind?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not…" this unknown question nipped at the arrogant nature of the Eddorian psyche, but too much was at stake to risk even the smallest slip-up.

"An Earth captain has communicated with a Gravemind, perhaps an alliance of sorts? Maybe we have been discovered?"

The All-Highest scoffed at the thought,

"Fool! We are far far beyond the reach of their slipstream. The Dalek base at the center of the Milky Way is vulnerable however. We of Eddore will personally manage and carry out my plan if such a time comes to pass. The Dalek weapon must activate."

"Ideological change continues at rapid pace, I project our echelons of control to continue exponentially."

"When we leave to destroy the Arisians, the changes we have started will continue organically. What has started cannot be undone. The local galactic cluster will become a dictatorship within ten million years."

"We concur. In less than fifty-million years, if we do not return by then, many hundreds of galaxies will fall to our sway."

"So reads the data."

"The moment approaches. Inform all commands to stand ready. All resources are to be utilized if the Dalek's are attacked."

 **Milky Way - Center of Galaxy**

The Supreme Dalek carefully dialed the controls of his sensor grid, adjusting and priming the necessary variables to obtain the desired result. On screen, a layout of Commander Data's positronic brain. Easily overcome during his time connected to the Federation mainframe, his subsystems had been rewritten to serve the Dalek purpose. Not susceptible to mind-scans as were biological slaves, the Dalek's knew they were in the clear. Commander Sloan had been obliterated by design, the phaser fire from Evil-Kirk's Enterprise targeting his building specifically. No loose ends existed now, with the base on Cherno 44 vaporized, no path lead to Data or the Daleks.

Satisfied, the Supreme floated down the corridor to the ghastly room containing the clump of heads and to gateways beyond. The flesh still hung silently on chains, waking and sleeping randomly. Extensive scans revealed nothing beyond the flesh, and yet nothing was more important than what came from the speaking heads. Communication with the Old Ones.

"You have been active!" Shouted the Supreme Dalek accusingly. Stealth probes detected the strange occurrences on the Sulferion moon weeks ago, where Luke and 'John' had fought a desperate battle.

The chains twisted and clanked, heads and jaws moved and pulsated, the glob woke from a deep slumber.

 **The final gate must open**

"How do you plan on accomplishing this?! Your puppet is dead!" Shrieked the Dalek. "Our plan lays in tatters. Our weapon will only force them back to their dimension."

 **We will come, we can see it**

"Only after our weapon activates, if the timing is off, the Q will kill both of us!"

After a minute of waiting in silence, the verbal barrage continued.

"Do not try and D-E-C-E-I-V-E us. We have modified the planting spell, you will be locked in the Continuum. Obey and more will be allowed." The Dalek's had experimented nonstop for almost a year, carefully adjusting and mastering the spells which were needed to guide the entry of the Old Ones. This in conjunction with the final spell would allow them passage. "Who is to voice the final spell? It cannot be us!"

 **The final words will be spoken**

Angry at the vagueness of the Old Ones, the Supreme Dalek moved off into another section of the station. Dozens of Dalek's supervised and programmed the production efforts of super-advanced weapon systems soon to come online. Not entirely trusting the Boskone agency to protect them, the Battle Computer recommended they prepare point defense systems in case of attack by the virus or other alien entities.

Resembling a giant soup ladle, the dredge bucket skimmed along the surface of the accretion disk orbiting the event horizon of the super black hole. These elemental particles were then used to create new and expanded molecules which in turn created material. The Dalek's advanced knowledge of weapons and all things war brought complete lethality to the defensive battle stations being assembled at the center of the galaxy. Great care had been taken in the study of the Star roads rampaging about, exotic weapons being no stranger to the Dalek hoard. The Time War waged against the Time Lords stretched through time and dimension. Entering realms scarcely believed at all, and into times long forgotten or so far into the future they barely registered as a dream.

Conflict was their purpose. Total extermination their goal.

The Dalek's also held onto another plan. One fulfilled only after the death of the Q. Once the burden of their destruction lifted, sights would turn to the mortals of the Universe. Boskone, the Flood, all would be targeted for extermination in their grand vision.

"Once our weapon discharges against the Q, turn it towards the virus infection and Boskone!"

 **Milky Way - Gamma Quadrant - Deathstar**

"So we have a deal then Q?" Asked the Emperor, seated alone in his throne room overlooking the blue whirling of hyperspace. "You said you wanted to teach humanity a lesson, there is no greater lesson than total defeat. I destroy Earth, and you snap your fingers and all resets to how it was. After all, a good tool is one that works and must be taken care of..." his thin lips pulling back to show his rotten yellow teeth. He closed his eyes in anticipation of an answer, only a week from Earth, he could feel his victory in hand.

"Deal."


	38. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Calm Before the Storm

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Dauntless Spaceship**

Spock ever so carefully dialed the last instrument to optimum level. Nearing completion, the magnetic corridor weapon represented the highest technical expertise he, Data, and Cienna's extraordinary brains could conceive. The Dauntless spaceship providing the manufacturing and replication resources required to build such a device; its robust production facilities unparalleled throughout Starfleet.

"How's it going Spock?"

"Very well Cienna, we are almost ready for a small scale test."

"I agree," added Data, looking into his own instrument screen and calibrating the last of his vectors. "I believe a test on a small lifeless planetary body will suffice."

"Agreed," acknowledged the Vulcan, not looking up from his own instruments.

Theoretical calculations and blueprints assembled and refined aboard the Enterprise now came into being. Replicators hummed nonstop and clanking and whirling of components continued. But the final evolution of the weapon did not occur naturally. For a little over twenty-hours ago, a Star road materialized into real space and enveloped the Dauntless. Held in ebbing and flowing black-energy at the core of the spiderweb-like tendrils, the trio worked hand in hand with the new visitor aboard their ship. Displaying over twenty limbs and even more eyes, the multi-appendage Flood form assisted in adjustments to the final build. Speaking through the creature, the Gravemind informed the officers of its intentions.

The mind-merge with Kirk had allowed the Precursors access to the unknown whereabouts of the secret and ultra-advanced ship. With no way to communicate, Spock, Data, and Cienna decided to continue the mission. At first, they were unsure of how to interact with the blob of blended Klingon and other organisms, but after a few hours, an uneasy working relationship developed. Both Spock and Data found strange alterations to code and small adjustments to process procedures programmed into the Dauntless production commands. Spock assumed the Gravemind had accessed the internal systems, the deep core processors, but could not theorize how. The onboard A.I. of the Dauntless confirmed no interaction with a foreign network, but the code had changed, for better or worse. Trapped inside the Star road, surrounded by a million Flood forms and whirling tendrils of destruction, the trio worked with the Gravemind's minion.

Currently, Cienna and Data worked along a control board, the mutated form working several meters away.

"Cienna. Are you certain the Dalek's will be unable to stop the rising magnetic field levels in a given system once the weapon primes?" This question found itself at the center of debate aboard the Enterprise as the weapon developed on the drawing board. Insufficient range seemed to be on everyone's mind, the magnetic corridor weapon, dubbed MCW for short needed to be less than 500,000 kilometers from its target.

Cienna began to answer, but the clump of bodies interrupted her with a cryptic response.

"Questions without answers…"

Considering everything she knew of Dalek weaponry, which she admitted only covered the basics, a surprise attack could work.

"I do not believe they could stop the buildup before the corridor opens."

"This is our only, best, option. No other weapon system can penetrate Dalek defenses as you have described them," noted Spock, still looking into his viewer. The weakness, if one could be pointed out, lay in the buildup of negative magnetic frequencies in the spatial area. Spock calculated that the Dalek's would only have thirty seconds to counter, assuming they employed the necessary equipment to do so. "We must test the weapon on a small planetoid or-"

"See now that we are ready," replied the creature in a slow monotone voice, its arms pointing towards the cockpit. Data led the way towards the front of the ship, walking down a narrow corridor before entering a much larger room. Filled with dangerous raw materials for rapid weapon construction, he eyed the barrels and inventory carefully as he passed. Upon learning of their entrapment, Data had quickly made a quick observation of all critical components in the unlikely event of Flood theft. Going into battle meant all weapon and material inventories needed to be at the full.

Entering the cockpit where one oversized command chair sat in the center of a window-wrapped room, only blackness appeared. The twinkling of a thousand stars now hidden by the Star roads strange center. Behind Cienna, Spock, and Data, the lumbering beast stopped at the narrow passage into the command room. Data's fingers flew over the controls before turning back towards the Flood.

"We must have access to sensor scans."

"Is this what you desire android?" Data turned slowly back towards the windows, and like an iris of a camera, a small spot of blackness began to open. The starlight came through the exotic energy barrier allowing an exit. "The end nears. Prepare yourselves. Find solace in your lives as your mission may be your last." A whirling of energy transported the mutant away, and before long, the Star road dematerialized into the slipstream realm.

After scanning the surrounding area, the trio realized the Star road had moved their ship. They now sat thousands of lightyears away in a system of lifeless planets, a perfect testing ground. Moving the Dauntless towards a dead planetary body, they activated the priming mechanism. Cienna sat in the large seat designed for a Lensman and nervously stretched her fingers. A lever stuck out of the main cockpit board and Cienna gently placed her hand upon it. The Gravemind had expressed that little time remained, and so with nervousness, she slowly pressed it forward. Deep in the belly of the Dauntless, new and entirely alien generators came to life. Magnetic fields collided with abstract and impossible elements as the weapon came into being.

Cienna pushed the lever higher along the slots,

Click... click... click...

As each small measure was passed the noise which first started as a low hum now grew into a deafening roar. Spinning whirling generators pushed a stream of unnamable elements through the main dish which shot out towards the planet.

Click… click… click…

Cienna kept an eye on the dials and another on the planet, a white sparkling beam penetrated the atmosphere and disappeared below the cloud tops.

Click… click… click…

Spock placed his fingers over his ears, deck plates groaned under the enormous load until the lever reached maximum. The beam brightened and then cut out entirely.

Everyone waited.

And waited.

Far below on the planet, the white sparkling energy grew, breaking through the cloud barrier and shining like a nuclear fireball.

Spock eyed the timer, and everyone began reporting their station readings,

"Countdown to corridor activation… 10...9...8...7...6...5"

"Magnetic levels at eighty-seven over three…"

"Ambient temperature now at seventy-three kelvin and climbing…"

"3...2..1…"

Instantly, the entire planet and for thousands of miles beyond turned black. As if a giant balloon had inflated around it, then as fast as it formed, it shrank. So quickly did both the expansion and retraction occur, it seemed to happen instantaneously.

It was over.

The planet, cosmic rays, and the ether of space disappeared into nothingness. So fast did the magnetic corridor open and close that billionths of a decimal point would be necessary on any ordinary timer. Not taken anywhere, or transported away, the very elemental fabric of reality ceased to exist. The universe, being no slouch, instantly covered the area as fast as it disappeared. It was as if the planet had never been there.

"The small-scale weapon test has been a success. I estimate the generators can create a corridor 23 million, three hundred sixty-eight kilometers in diameter," stated Data who continued to monitor the after effects.

"I agree. However, to generate a corridor that large, it would require fifteen minutes of buildup and the Dauntless would be inside the area of deletion." Cienna nodded along in agreement with Spock. Danger to both the mission and ship increased as the target size increased. They would need to pinpoint the command and control and fire. Another point of issue arose from the eroded generator sprockets after discharge. As predicted, the system required a complete overhaul after each use, meaning the weapon could only be activated every three days.

Data's eyes flashed back and forth, his positronic-brain working the scenarios over,

"I believe it prudent to install a remote override system into the Dauntless. I can remotely detonate her from a distance once the weapon is fired. My positronic-net can access the main core from another ship."

Cienna and Spock shared the same look of confusion,

"That seems dangerous Data, what if it is hacked?" Cienna made it clear early that the system needed to be as mechanical as possible, where human operation trumped automation so the Dalek's could not shut down the weapon from afar.

"I am inclined to agree with Ms. Cienna. Why would we install such a feature? The Dalek's can take over any computer network they can access. Creating a back door seems to exacerbate that concern."

Data displayed his usual agreeable face,

"It may become necessary to control the weapon from a remote point. I am attempting to predict all future obstacles."

Spock considered this for a moment, looking at the android and then back to Cienna. Doctor McCoy had made it a point to complain about his computer-like brain, calling him cold, logical, inhuman. Now those cold and calculating neurons fired, processed, analyzed.

"As am I."

 **Alpha Quadrant - Galactic Edge - Super Star Destroyer Vigilant**

Grand Admiral Thrawn's office resembled Winston Churchill's war room in the basements of London's bombed-out buildings during WWII. Tables, chairs, graphs, and maps all strewn about on makeshift desks and working areas. The doors had been removed to allow for more space, and a large table wedged-in where Generals and commanders would meet and discuss the coming attack.

Thrawn stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes closed and ears open. Listening to conversations taking place among his officers, some with brilliant ideas, others with not. For a week, Federation worlds tasted the full fury of the Imperial war machine. As promised to Captain Kirk in their brief conversation, worlds lay in ruin and populations dwindled and died under the onslaught. Day after day, small surgical fleets dashed in and out. Unloading a barrage of turbolaser fire that flattened cities and burnt forests.

But not all was well with the Imperial campaign; in fact, it would be a stretch to call it a campaign at all. With more than half the Imperial fleet destroyed thanks to the Flood and Boskone pirate fleets, only seven-hundred star destroyers remained. No Bounty Hunters reported in, those channels long silenced due to corruption, murder, and betrayal. Equal in silence were the deactivated probe droids. The network which governed them became corrupt, with strange computer code and other oddities being found in protocol droids who monitored it. So much had occurred that Thrawn still could not believe it, let alone analyze all the implications.

Piett's enormous fleet had been destroyed with only a single emergency dispatch before all signals were blocked. What happened to the attacking force, Thrawn did not know. Unable to communicate with Imperial Command in his own Galaxy, he could only guess as to what was occurring there. He had asked Lord Vader if he could head back, but the request was denied. To Thrawn, nothing made any sense. His new orders flew in the face of all reason. To draw Starfleet away from Earth only to destroy it with the Deathstar seemed pointless. All resources he had argued, should be sent back through the wormhole to fight the infection he assumed spread like fire in his home galaxy.

But like any good Grand Admiral, orders needed to be carried out to the best of their ability. And so the final plan formed.

"General Veers, once we come out of orbit, you are to proceed with total occupation. We will protect you from orbit. Be sure that your special commandos are broadcasting on their helmet cams. The plan will only work if Starfleet is aware. Every stormtrooper and Imperial Walker is to be deployed. They must be killed in the streets and from above."

Nothing in the way of communication came from the Federation for weeks. Without probes, Thrawn could not risk walking into a trap, and so his plan provided the opposite; he needed them to come to him. Although he had to admit, he did not know precisely how many ships they had. He did not expect the entire Federation fleet to come, ideally more than half, allowing the Deathstar a softer target. With hyperspace denial systems in place, the space station would need to exit hyperspace beyond Pluto, allowing whatever defensive formations to engage it for about six hours before it could move close enough to fire. Thrawn felt it impossible to force all ships to leave Earth's defense. And so Thrawn planned to defeat them as a broken group.

Turning back to his private desk, he noted the small floating hologram. A shimmering image of Captain James T. Kirk. Scrolling slowly beside were his log entries stolen from the Federation network months ago, missions, details, etc.

 _All men have weaknesses… and my dear captain, I have found yours._

"Align the entire fleet. We jump in five hours. This will be the end of Captain Kirk and his planet Earth."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Earth**

Four million, two hundred and fifty thousand, nine hundred and three dead. Seventeen million one hundred and six thousand injured. Irradiated soil, water, and atmosphere killing and sickening more each day.

A crater twenty-two miles across and six deep represented the awesome power of the super-atomic detonation within the Cherno 44 base. On the Californian coast, San Francisco resembled a quarry of broken buildings and wrecked structures. The ruling body of the Federation turned to atoms by Evil-Kirk's precise and deadly strikes. And yet, the damage could have been far worse. Thanks to Han Solo's piloting and Picard's Enterprise, three out of the four super-atomic torpedoes were intercepted before making landfall. Rescue efforts continued round the clock with more bodies being pulled from rubble every hour.

But like all things it seems, nothing came easy to Starfleet or it's people. Everyday member worlds were obliterated, far out from the inner core of protection, they fell to the steady stream of turbolaser bolts streaming from orbit. Impossible to stop, the planets sent desperate pleas for help, but there came no solution of rescue or repel of borders. The Navy, unable to make the journey in any reasonable amount of time, left worlds defenseless, save for a few merchant craft easily overcome in the opening engagements.

High above Earth on Spacedock 1, the remaining government body set to task the rearmament of their navy and perhaps last stand. Captain Kirk had communicated dire news. The Deathstar is heading towards Earth. With little less than a weak to prepare for its arrival, hyperspace denial beacons were pushed far beyond Pluto and into the Kuiper Belt. By most estimates, the battle station would need hours at standard drive speeds to reach its maximum firing range.

Captain Picard sat in an office aboard Spacedock 1, liaising with various admirals and political dignitaries rushed into office to help run the government.

"Yes Admiral, we are rearming our industrial mining ships with phaser coils, and the remaining torpedo warheads on Alexium Theta are on route."

Lt. Reginald Barkley buzzed the room and entered when accepted.

"Yes Mr. Barkley?"

Starting his sentence with a stutter, he fought through the words and eventually got his point across.

"Ca..ca...captain. The… the Genesis Device is not ready. We can't seem to align the coils." Picard sighed and tapped his fingers on the glass desk. Commander Data theorized the lost technology could be reactivated after a thorough analysis of his complete interconnected scan of all Federation databases. Unfortunately, without his presence the information could not be fashioned together in time. The Rebels had warned Starfleet of the Deathstar upon their arrival on Earth, and that it could be deployed against them. Picard and Admiral Ross felt it a reasonable counter to the Deathstar, but its interaction with a powerful shield could not be predicted, and hence, the outcome would be unknown.

Weeks ago, when Captain Kirk had informed the high command that he would be leaving for Kronos, Picard had lost his cool and started a shouting match with him. Compounding his frustration was the transfer of Commander Data to Kirk's Enterprise. Jean-Luc could not believe the decision and questioned why the Admiralty would authorize this considering his first officer was essential for the rebuilding of Genesis. At that time, the battle stations deployment was unknown, but the idea of it sent fear down the spines of every commanding officer. He did not realize then or now that Kinnison had made a slight adjustment to the Admirals thinking. Later, Picard made several requests to Captain Kirk to return Data, but all were denied, which further escalated the tense situation between both captains. No one outside of the tight circle onboard Kirk's Enterprise knew of the superweapon being built.

"Mr. Barkley. Unfortunately without the assistance from Commander Data, we need to refocus our efforts." Beverly Crusher now joined them and she protested the confiscation of private medical ships into the Starfleet navy. Thousands of civilians were still trapped and the sensors onboard the medical vessels were able to detect faint life signs from orbit.

"Jean-Luc, why are we arming medical transports on Mars? They should be scanning Wyoming and San Francisco!" She stated hotly.

The answer did not come easy, being a lifelong friend of the doctor, Jean-Luc knew that no matter what he said, she would not be happy.

"Beverly…" he began, "a weapon of terrific power approaches Earth. We will only have several hours to stop it. If we cannot, then the planet will be destroyed. We are trying to balance-"

"Then evacuate the planet! We can move millions of people before it arrives!"

"But not billions."

The tense exchange stopped as abruptly as it started. Beverly Crusher knew her friend to be right. Everything relied on them defeating the battle station, and those trapped below the rubble may have to die to protect the rest.

 _If we cannot stop the Deathstar, then evacuation would have been the best option…_ This thought haunted Picard since the alert had been sounded by Kirk several days ago. Both preparation and evacuation could not be completed simultaneously. One strategy had been decided upon.

After a minute of sullen quiet, the door chimed and Picard called for entry.

The door slid open and Picard's face froze,

Captain Kirk

Luke Skywalker

Kimball Kinnison

All stood just outside the doorway, shoulder to shoulder. Kirk walked in first, his face hard and unapologetic. Luke and Kimball followed and stood to each side.

"James. You are back earlier than we expected."

"How are the preparations?" asked Jim, ignoring the comment.

Picard steamed under the collar and slowly stood. He knew Luke from many meetings but did not know the other gentlemen, he thought he recognized him but could not be sure.

"They are going well. The Admirals agreed with many of your recommendations, especially the shuttlecrafts."

Without forewarning, Dr. Crusher and Lt. Barkley suddenly walked out of the room, Kimball then refocused his efforts and planted detailed knowledge into Jean-Luc's mind. For the first time, the entire truth became clear, and Picard's mouth began to open in awe at the fantastic and unbelievable Dalek's, Gravemind, Boskone, and Old Ones. The reasons, secrets, and powers all becoming clear.

As this knowledge-transfer continued, Luke felt with the Force. He sensed the goodness of Picard, the true spirit that he doubted any Lensman could reach. Past the mind and body, Luke felt there was a soul, and the Jedi saw it and its future. Despite Jean-Luc's anger towards Kirk and his more liberal way of thinking, the spirit felt pure.

After Luke's ordeal with 'John' and his experience with Kirk and Kinnison, he felt there were more to people than just mind and body. Something deeper,

 _What makes someone good and evil? Can someone escape their destiny?_ He did not know. He wished Yoda or Kenobi were around to help him, but he had not spoken to Ben or Yoda since Dagobah.

On the other side of the room, Picard sat down behind his desk to digest the information. He understood the reasoning for keeping the Dalek's a secret. _They are the real threat… we have been blind. This is it… this is the end._ Picard could see the Gravemind's conversation with Kirk and Kinnison, the planned attack upon the center of the galaxy and the incoming Deathstar through the wormhole. _Yes of course… Data was needed for the real superweapon..._ He also saw something else. The brief glimpse of another enemy, a mirror-Kirk. Somehow, someway, the other Kirk had found himself inside the mind of the Gravemind just like his good alter ego and Lensman ally.

As Picard continued to digest, Kirk began,

"I have been monitoring member planet devastation caused by the Imperial fleet, I believe they are trying to draw us out from Earth. They are using quick attacks, no more than a minute of bombardment before withdrawing."

Luke nodded in agreement and added to the assessment,

"I believe they are trying to draw you out,"

"To clear the way to Earth for the Deathstar…" added Kinnison.

"While the Flood attacks the Dalek's along with Cienna, Spock, and Data, we must protect Earth. It appears, as you already know, this is a multi-faceted war. We may need to make our last stand here." Picard's painful statement resonated with each of the men. And as each sorted through their own feelings, the desk communicator buzzed and Picard pressed the button, "Yes?"

A young ensign frantically relayed the news,

"Captain! Reports of an enormous Imperial fleet. Seven-hundred star destroyers including one of the big ones. Troops landing and occupying cities. Large walking machines are smashing buildings and planetary bombardment-"

"Ensign. Calm..." Picard shut down the young officer so he could get a grasp on the situation. "What planet?"

"Vulcan."

Like a vacuum, all the air was sucked out of the room. The very race that had kick started the Federation and made first contact now found themselves under the iron heel of the Empire.

But it was more than that.

Kirk's head slowly turned towards Picard. They locked eyes before Kirk's gaze shifted further away, out past the wall and into space. He felt sick, angry, helpless. _Spock… my friend… what would you have me do…_

"This is a terrible tragedy…" whispered Picard, rubbing his eyes and holding his head. "Our backs are against the wall..."

Kirk's mind shifted back into the room, he felt as if he could feel every death, every murder of his friend's race. He moved slowly towards the small window and looked down at the blue Earth. _My home and people about to be obliterated by the Deathstar… Vulcans being slaughtered to draw us out..._

He looked deep into his own reflection. He knew. He had known the moment the word had come through the speaker.

"Heaven forgive me..."


	39. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Never Surrender

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Vulcan**

The ground swelled, windows shattered. Overhead, the roar of tie-fighters deafened the mob of survivors who pushed headlong for the safety of the mountains. En masse, the Vulcans fled the devastation of their cities and towns. Imperial Walkers absorbed the tremendous punishment from ground forces as they relentlessly pushed forward. Stormtroopers by the thousand rushed from building to building, blasting anything that moved. Their boots rushing past the dead, children, women, none were spared. Small groups had attempted to hide, only to be cut down and massacred on camera.

From above, turbolasers smacked into planetary energy stations and water supply depots. Fireballs miles high engulfed the horizon and dust blotted out the sun.

It was the extermination of the Vulcan civilization.

"Are we broadcasting?"

"Yes Grand Admiral, straight towards Earth."

Thrawn stood at the windows of his super star destroyer, looking out into space and towards Earth. He felt sure of his plan, convinced of his superior fleet.

But there was a hint of uneasiness, a small flutter in his stomach.

Kirk's escape from the Dominion and Cardassian forces still bugged him. The Grand Admiral replayed the battle in his mind. The Enterprise had obliterated his puppet forces by some miracle of weapon and propulsion improvement.

Turning back towards Captain Needa, Thrawn reassured himself,

"The upgraded bridge shield generators were installed aboard this ship?"

"Yes Grand Admiral. We are at two-hundred percent."

Nodding slowly, Thrawn turned back towards the window and revisited his plan.

 _Time to die Kirk. Come to me now so I can make it quick._

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Earth**

Roughly four-hundred Starfleet ships of various classes and designs sat in formation around Earth. Joining them were more than one-hundred Rebel cruisers and frigates, including the humongous Home One command ship. Like small buzzards on a horse's back, Federation ships positioned themselves around the Rebel capital ship, the anchor and center of their defense. Estimates put the Deathstar at no more than a few days away, and the broadcast from Vulcan continued nonstop. How many Vulcans died each minute no one knew. Three days of vicious ground battles and bombardment from orbit put the number of dead at tens of millions.

The Federations emergency government ordered all ships to stand fast; their reasoning simple. If Vulcan were rescued it would leave Earth open for attack. And without installed hyperspace denial systems around the Vulcan planet, the Deathstar could simply move against it after Earth lay scattered across the cosmos. Cold and precise logic allowed for such a decision, and this weighed immensely on everyone.

Kirk slumped in his captain's chair, entirely and utterly deflated. The broadcasts from the Empire painfully switched off days ago, but it did not help quell his sorrow. He sat entirely still, staring at the deck plates between Sulu and Chekov.

He sat

And sat

and sat

No ship-to-ship communication moved over subspace, everyone kept to themselves, weighing the battle to come. There was little to talk about, the defensive positions had been assigned and strategy for Deathstar interception agreed upon.

He sat

And sat

And sat

He picked at the edge of his chair with his fingers as he weighed all options. The same options he considered for days.

 _Kimball's discovery inside the brain of Lt. Reginald Barkley may help us… or lead us to disaster..._

Years ago aboard Picard's Enterprise, an alien probe from the center of the galaxy reprogrammed Barkley's mind to an astonishing level. Allowing the engineer to create a subspace tunnel for rapid transit. This technological know-how had been blocked by the same race of Nth aliens upon their departure from the center of the galaxy. But thanks to the Lensman, lost information from the depths of Barkley's mind was now installed upon the Enterprise.

 _Even if we can, does not mean we should. What if the technology fails and we are a stranded between worlds… a week at best to make it back..._

And so he sat in silence,

And sat

And sat

Weighing, wondering,

Convincing himself.

He also felt distracted by what he saw inside the cloudy and mysterious Gravemind. Alongside Kinnison, he saw and felt his evil-self. _Evil, twisted, without care of life, but in some ways identical to myself._ _He still enjoys the company of Spock and Bones,_ _they are his friends in whatever twisted or perverse manner of appreciation._

Kirk shifted gears, now reliving the images from the Gravemind,

 _Coruscant. How many lost on a planet with a population of a trillion? How many more would need to die now? The Gravemind promised to stop expanding, but... with that promise, can it no longer stop the Daleks? Can it no longer win us the war? Without its help...perhaps Earth would fall… maybe we will all fall. Do lives now deserved to be sacrificed to stop the loss of all life? Who gets to decide?  
_

Aboard the bridge of Picard's Enterprise, Jean-Luc and Beverly sat quietly, both watching the ongoing stream of violence from Vulcan. In this particular image, a squad of stormtroopers chased down school children in the Science Academy sub-basement. Dr. Crusher winced and closed her eyes as the youngest of the toddlers fell to a blaster round.

"God, they are savages, those animals…" she whispered.

"They have no honor," the harsh words from Worf resonating in each of them.

And on it went, endlessly broadcasting over all the subspace frequencies, the destruction of the Vulcans all but assured.

"Why… why can't we do something Jean-Luc? This is awful."

Picard sighed, searching for words to convey the terrible predicament Starfleet found itself in,

"Beverly… we are caught, between two terrible choices. The lives of-"

A sensor alarm beeped interrupting the discussion,

"Captain, we have a ship moving out of formation," reported Ensign Rodriguez from the helm position. Picard sat forward, gripping the armrests of his chair. _No ships should be moving right now…_ The young officer's hands flew over the controls to zero-in on the unauthorized activity. "Sir, it's... it's the Enterprise."

Dr. Crusher looked towards Picard who sat still and silent.

"On screen…" apprehension evident in his voice.

The viewscreen switched from incoming Imperial broadcasts to a star-field full of Federation ships. Glittering sunlight reflected off their still hulls as they waited patiently for orders from the Admirals. Then from the bottom right of the screen, Kirk's Enterprise came into view. Slowly moving away from them, it slipped between ships under low impulse towards the front of the pack.

A flurry of communications jumped off the board and Worf relayed the messages.

"Captain, we are ordered by Admiral Ross to engage a tractor beam. The Admirals are receiving no answer from the Enterprise. Captain… captain…?"

Jean-Luc remained silent, his eyes downcast and reflective on all decisions yet to come. Actions and inaction. Justice. Right and wrong. Now the bridge crew turned their heads towards his chair. All waiting for an order.

Worf broke the silence with an incoming message,

"Captain, we are receiving an incoming hail from the Enterprise. All channels. It is being broadcast to the entire fleet, including Earth. Audio only."

 **People of Earth. Citizens, officers, mothers, fathers. This is James. T Kirk, Captain of the Federation starship Enterprise. As you all know, an Imperial occupying force has taken over the planet Vulcan in an attempt to draw us from our home. Now and for days, the people of Vulcan are being butchered in the streets. The innocent die.**

The line went quiet as he gathered his thoughts to continue the broadcast,

 **We must act. We cannot live while others die. It isn't enough to merely survive, but how we live, and how we survive is just as important. Each of you must find your own peace, your own reasoning. But I have made up my mind.**

 **I am going to save them.**

The line cut and all was silent. A pin drop could have been heard across the entire fleet and planet. Bridge crews looked at one another, fathers clutched mothers and children and all reflected with the news of their heroes departure.

Each person listening knew the implications; that the Deathstar was on route. But more importantly, people understood the **why**. It wasn't enough to make the decisions when the choices were easy, but when they were hard. And somewhere in each of them, deep down, they understood.

Not long after, from the bottom of Picard's viewscreen, the blue engine flare of the Millenium Falcon came into view. A few seconds later, dozens of X-wings moving towards the front of the Starfleet formation to join the offensive. In the middle of the defensive formation, gigantic engine nozzles of the Rebel cruisers and Home One erupted to life. Federation ships scattered to clear a path as the fleet broke apart.

A desperate Admiralty hailed Picard and others to try and put a stop to the rogue captain, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. On every ship, the same conversation broke-out among the command crew. **Do we follow? Do we leave Earth?**

Captain Kirk sat quietly in his chair, looking down at his arm consol at the messages coming in from his peers. On screen, the last Federation ship fell away leaving him at the front of the wedge formation. Ahead, just the blackness of space and the suffering of the Vulcan people. Not a word was said aboard the bridge, each and every officer completed their duties as assigned. There was simply nothing to say, everyone knew what must be done. After minutes of silence, Uhura received the hail Kirk hoped would come.

The screen flickered and Captain Picard stood front and center aboard his bridge.

"Jim…"

"Jean-Luc."

"You know that Starfleet has ordered me to stop you?" Picard's statement not a warning, but one of bemusement. "They are concerned we will not make it back to defend Earth."

"We may not."

"Indeed... if we are going to be damned, let us be damned for who we are."

Kirk smiled and noted one last point before switching off the screen and preparing the jump to Vulcan.

"Obviously we have a way to get there faster than warp."

"Oh, I wouldn't doubt it…" smiled Picard, unaware of the secret drive installation but suspecting some miraculous plan existed.

Kinnison came over and stood beside Kirk as the screen switched back to the star-field.

"Looks like Scotty is ready. The engineers on Spacedock 1 are also ready. The Admiralty and civilian leaders are being evacuated now. Your plan might just work." The Lensman walked back to his post to monitor Barkley's exotic drive system.

"All ships tie-in, all ships standby." Kirk released the communication button and rested calmly in his seat.

From the dish of the Enterprise, a beam shot out and swirled and bubbled in the distance. An orange energy pool radiated outward, and slowly but surely, the entire Federation fleet was drawn in. Bodies stretched and perception altered. A sense of slow motion overcame every man woman and alien aboard the ships. Time stopped and all went quiet.

Until...

Half a million kilometers above Vulcan, the entire attack force shimmered into reality from the subspace realm. Captain Kirk stood slowly, Vulcan burning before him. Ravaged by the Imperial siege, his fists clenched and nostrils flared. Below, the Imperial fleet drifted in orbit, not ready for what was to come.

The command came not as a thunderous overture, but a mere whisper. As if all the sadness, sacrifice, and pain came to a head. _There is no turning back…_

"Fire..."

Like rain, NINE-HUNDRED photon torpedoes and endless phaser beams and turbolasers came down onto the unsuspecting and unshielded Imperial ships. Thrawn had correctly set his scanners for Warp and Hyperspace, expecting to detect incoming ships hours in advance. He had no way of knowing about Barkley's particular technology, or Kinnison's ability to pull it out of his head.

The entire color spectrum erupted in one titanic flash. Dazzling blues and purples, mixed with oranges and whites spilled out in all directions. Like little novas, the Imperial ships expanded into superheated elemental particles. So violent was the opening strike that thousands of tie-fighters patrolling and crisscrossing the hulls of their mother ships instantly vanished.

From the surface of Vulcan, whomever by chance looked-up found themselves blinded, night turned to day, with all shadows retreating from the burning sky. Within the Imperial ranks, commanders and Generals radioed to their command ships but found the communications systems swamped with alerts and calls for help.

Grand Admiral Thrawn scrambled off the floor where he found himself thrown and rushed over to his 3D hologram flickering to life. Resembling a layered onion, his fleet formed a sphere, with his super star destroyer in the center. Now a deep chasm had developed from the blasted ships, with a few torpedoes making it all the way to his own. He screamed at his communications pit, and soon a massive barrage of return fire headed towards the Federation and Rebel fleet. Between his teeth, he was seething in anger.

 _How!?_ But that didn't matter, he knew. _Kirk…_

The 3D hologram displayed his fleet in green, with star destroyers caught out of position racing to fill holes. Like shunting trains, they tore across their planetary orbits to try and stop the ever-deepening cavern in the formation. High above the green sphere were hundreds of red flickering ships, these represented the enemy, many winking out in the deadly barrage.

"Inform all commands, begin sub-ether jamming."

As was done against the Borg, dishes the size of houses began pumping tremendous amounts of subspace and real space interference into the planetary system.

"Enable warp bubble jamming, they are not getting away."

The Federation fleet instantly felt the waves, all communication between ships immediately ceased and their sensor systems became a chaotic mess of static and erratic signatures. Turbolasers streaked upward from the now recovering Imperial forces and vaporized Starfleet vessels without much effort. Shields designed to withstand like-powered civilizations were no match for heavy turbolasers which punched holes through the flimsy shields like swiss cheese.

Onboard Kirk's Enterprise, a tight-beam transmission from the Super Star Destroyer Vigilant was received and instantly placed onto the main viewer. The transmission went live to all other ships in the fleet. Thrawn wanted them to see and understand the foolishness of their endeavor.

Kirk and Thrawn locked eyes,

"Nice of you to join us Captain Kirk. Welcome to Vulcan."

"I never turn down an invitation."

Thrawn's thin smile grew,

"You are leading men and women to their deaths captain. Every ship of mine you destroy, thousands of Vulcans also perish. We have been bringing them onboard since we have arrived. You are murdering your own brothers and sisters." As Thrawn finished his sentence, the smallest of facial expressions became apparent. His brow furrowed slightly as he caught sight of Kinnison sitting at the science station. _Wait… I know that face…_ He then put it together. _The security footage inside Kuat Drives. That...that is Kirk's man… not some Founder telepath!_

Picking up on the Grand Admirals hesitation and following the eye movements carefully, James smiled softly as he looked back from his friend and towards the main viewer.

Thrawn continued, recovering from his momentary pause of clarity,

"Your surprise attack destroyed many of my ships, but already in my counter-barrage, over a hundred of your tinfoil ships are gone. Our shields are now at full power and as you can see… you can no longer communicate with your own. Surrender now, and all lives will be spared. Including those on Earth and Vulcan."

"We will never surrender… we will fight to our last breath."

Thrawn shook his head with displeasure,

"Then you die. So long good captain."

Kirk smiled, his face full of regret, _If only the universe dealt us different cards,  
_

"Then let this be our final battle dear friend. Let us die together."

He flicked off the viewer and ordered the Enterprise deeper into the fray, his enhanced phaser systems cutting into the star destroyers and boiling their armored plates.

Back aboard the Vigilant, Thrawn leaned onto the command board and closed his eyes. He could not believe the latest revelation. _How long has Kirk's telepath been marauding about in our ranks?! Are we in danger ourselves of telepathic manipulation? Are there more? Is there one aboard my ship even now..?_

"Tighten our sphere, bring the Acute and Bisbing closer to sector three-six. Do not let the Enterprise come near our fleet, try and hold it at bay, range is essential. Captain Needa. As each ship's shields falter, have them rotate down into the sphere and bring more out from the-"

"Grand Admiral! X-Wings heading towards the surface of Vulcan." Interrupted a communications officer from the pit.

"They are going after our ground divisions and walkers, inform ground crews."

Thrawn's grand design began to take shape, the strategy he intended now started to unfold, only slower no thanks to Kirk's surprise entry. Starfleet ships, lightly defended could not repel the heavy turbolasers from his guns and with the tight sphere continuously rotating fresh destroyers to the 'surface,' his defense could remain fresh. On the 3D board, Thrawn noticed Kirk targeting his most exposed ships, often causing severe or fatal damage. _Trying to keep him at a distance is working… but his weapons… I can't let him close, and yet… I can't let him pick off my ships..._

"Keep us tight, he's picking off the outer ships…" then something occurred to him. _This feels wrong, I'm being routed… I'm tightening up, does he want me to tighten up? Starfleet isn't trying to break up my sphere, but dance around the edges. Why? Why not try and break our formation..._

Every alarm klaxon flared to life, red lights and flashing sirens drowned out the noise of the busy bridge. Able to only partially grasp what exited the exotic subspace transit, the junior sensor operator's mouth lay agape.

Space Dock 1, deaf dumb and blind, sped towards the tightly packed Imperial fleet. Fixed with rudimentary propulsion jets and wrapped with unused warp coils and anti-matter pods, the flying suicide bomb plunged into the tightly packed outer layer of star destroyers. An explosion equal or greater to the initial assault ensued. In a flash, dozens of Imperial ships perished in a stunning display of ingenuity and creativity. Lt. Barkley had constructed another warp-tunnel apparatus aboard a lowly commerce ship which allowed for the new portal. Following the titanic blast of Space Dock 1, thousands of shuttlecraft packed with explosives and lacking pilots streaked through the breach and plowed into the enemy ranks.

Grand Admiral Thrawn's sphere collapsed under the bombardment. Onboard the Vigilant, Thrawn hurled orders into the communications pit to get his captains back into the fight. In less than two minutes he had lost half his fleet.

In the sky above Vulcan, liquefied hulls of Star Destroyer and Starfleet ships alike, filled the spaceways with molten metal.

Not letting the surprise attack wane, Kimball relayed good news to his friend,

"Jimmy, I've managed to talk to several captains in my range, they'll protect Home One as it works its way down towards the super star destroyer,"

"Good Kim, good. Sulu, keep us at least one hundred thousand kilometers from the Imperial fleet. Phaser room, keep up the good work." The Enterprise banked to the right, and as it tilted, phaser barrage after phaser barrage poured out. These lances of death preceded salvos of photon torpedo launches. The battle now reached its tenth minute, and without sensors or communications, no one could be sure how many Starfleet ships remained.

Many thousands of kilometers away, Home One dove downward at full impulse, it's goal to further disrupt the Imperial formation in the hopes of revealing the super star destroyer deep within. On its port side, Picard's Enterprise joined by several other Starfleet ships escorted the colossal Rebel flagship, picking off stray tie-fighters and engaging star destroyers the best they could.

"Mr. Worf, keep us as close to the Home One as possible, target any ships she seems to be ignoring." Behind Jean-Luc, Worf wrestled with his consol, the static display from his sensors driving him mad.

"Captain!" He barked, "Difficult to even get a target lock. Attempting to compensate."

Picard stood and spun around facing his angry Lieutenant,

"Then fire blindly, fire and fire, and when you do not believe you can fire, you fire again. Do you understand Mr. Worf."

Just as both men stared at each other, the ship rocked violently and each found themselves on the ground. A heavy turbolaser struck the frontal shield and buckled the energy barrier until it winked out.

"Captain. We have lost our frontal shield!"

Imperial turbolasers bit into Home One as it descended further into the chaos, escorting Federation ships exploding in all directions, sometimes taking with them crippled or defenseless star destroyers.

Total and utter chaos.

Thrawn had not anticipated that ALL Federation ships would come to battle, let alone arrive without warning or send their largest space station and shuttlecraft in a kamikaze attack. He counted the ship numbers on his display, _I'm down to one-hundred and four, Starfleet and Rebels less than ninety._

"Set tractor beams on Home One. Draw it into us, open up with every turbolaser we have. Target the engines."

Captain Needa rushed over to confirm the orders,

"You want us to pull it closer to us?"

"Yes Captain. Our tractor beams will dramatically accelerate its speed. And once we disable its engines, Home One will impact the Vulcan planet like an asteroid."

Passing through the final layer of star destroyer, Home One jolted forward under the newly activated tractor beams. For the first time, the Super Star Destroyer Vigilant became visible. It's enormous black hull shimmering in the glowing and all-encompassing battle. Both released their salvo's of turbolaser, but Home One had come through the entire fleet, battered and beaten compared to the mostly unscathed Imperial flagship. 

"We are being pulled towards the planet! Try and break the hold, concentrate fire on the bridge," yelled Admiral Ackbar to his staff, all beginning to panic.

Within a moment, the shields flashed and the engines burst. The once mighty Home One sailed straight past its target, propelled by the powerful tractor beams of the Vigilant and its own momentum, it flew towards the planet at quadruple its original speed.

Picard's Enterprise veered off to avoid a fatal hit, colliding with a large piece of space wreckage in the process. Sparks and consols burst wide open, ensigns screamed while others toppled over dead.

"Set our tractor beam on the Home One, we need to stop it from entering the atmosphere!" Shouted Picard as he ran over to check on Ensign Rodriguez who lay still in his seat.

Worf's fingers flew over the controls, but as he attempted to get a lock through the heavy jamming, he noted an indisputable fact.

"Captain, Home One is hundreds of times the mass of the Enterprise. We cannot possibly stop it. We can't beam them off either, jamming is still ongoing." Picard closed the young officer's eyes with his fingers before returning to his seat. _Worf is right. We cannot stop its descent towards the planet... but maybe we can at least give them time to evacuate..._

"Lock on tractor beam, it will give them time to get to their escape pods. Helm-" Picard stopped himself. His helmsman lay dead on the ground, killed by a bursting consol. Small fires burned throughout the Enterprise and Geordie Laforge pleaded with him to lay off the phaser banks for just a few minutes to help stabilize the power systems.

But he could not.

Dared not.

The battle needed to be won.

The Enterprise positioned itself behind Home One and hidden from the super star destroyer as it activated the tractor beam. Other Rebel ships tried to help but were blown to atoms by the overly powerful Vigilant, the final boss.

Thrawn stood at the bridge windows with his hands clasped behind his back. Everywhere ships exploded in white flashes of searing heat and radiation; some careening into each other as their steering systems failed. He glanced down at the ship counter,

 _We have forty left to their sixty,_ Studying his hologram, he noted Kirk was still killing three or four of his ships for every ship Starfleet lost. _Kirk! You are a thorn, a pesky thorn.  
_

"Tell the Pristine to close in our port side, I want to make sure we don't get flanked by the Rebel Corvette."

"Sir! Enterprise making an attack run!"

For a moment Thrawn hesitated, noting the Enterprise still hid behind the steaming and broken Home One. But he quickly realized his crewmen spoke of the other,

 _Time to die captain,_

Looking up towards the top of his tactical hologram, a single red dot bleeped downward, straight towards them. Green dots fizzled out as the Enterprise past, blasting through their armor and straight into the reactor chambers.

A pitmaster called out the distance, each word slightly more shaky than the next,

"One hundred thousand kilometers...ninety...eighty thousand kilometers…"

Down it came, faster and faster,

"Fifty thousand kilometers...forty…"

Thrawn grabbed Needa by the arm and looked straight into his eyes,

"Do not move this ship an inch. Once Kirk is in range, hold him in place with our tractor beams so we can pound him with our heavy turbolasers. That telepath cannot be allowed to enter our area!" Needa's eyes flickered in confusion as he rushed off to his station. Thrawn turned his attention back to the dropping red blip.

 _Come to me Kirk… come to me_

More back and forth shouting came from the pit,

"Grand Admiral, Home One is launching escape pods, its speed is slowed giving them more time to evacuate."

Ignoring the junior officer, Thrawn focused intently on his ultimate prize, he began pressing a few buttons on his own control board to ready the command. Just then, the bridge heaved to the right and Thrawn grasped his hologram table to stay erect. The ultra-powered phasers of Cienna's design smashed into the Vigilant's upgraded bridge shields. Sparking and radiating phaser beams danced along the hull as oodles of power plowed into the screens.

Thrawn glanced down at his readout, his eyes widening in surprise,

[[Shield Capacity at Maximum]]

 _Impossible… how can that ship generate so much power? We cannot take much more of this._ Pushing the even upgraded shields to their sheer limit, the Vigilant barely held on.

"Kirk is in range!"

All at once, ten powerful tractor beams latched onto the Constitution-class vessel. Out massed by a million, the Enterprise could not push or pull away, it shuddered to a halt, still firing but immobile.

"Captain Needa, target with our heavy turbolasers and fire immediately! Our shields are almost down!" Screamed Thrawn, a hint of desperation evident in his voice.

 **VULCAN SURFACE**

"Easy Chewie, easy!" Shouted Han as he pulled the lever hard to adjust course in the winding canyon. The Millenium Falcon blasted through the deep gorge towards its next set of targets. Already, fifty Imperial Walkers lay burning across the land, Rebel snub-fighters making short work of their bodies. But sadly, not all fighters had made it. Few remained as ground fire and surviving tie-fighters overwhelmed their diminishing numbers.

From the cockpit of the Falcon, blurred rocky walls rushed past as the capital city lay beyond the pale orange horizon.

"I still can't see much on the scope, make sure shields are set for maximum protection," Chewie growled and reconfirmed the settings. After another minute, a small alert flashed on the Wookie's screen and he roared to his friend.

"I see it, I see it!"

"See what?!" Shouted C3P0 seated in the rear,

"Slave 1 coming in our six,"

"Abort!" Shouted the protocol droid.

"Shut it 3P0! We can't pull up or we'll be shot to pieces by ground fire."

A desperate feeling came over the trio inside the cockpit. Each knew the pilot of Slave 1 was none other than Boba Fett; the most famous and deadly bounty hunter in the Imperial Galaxy. His missions and success legend in Rebel circles.

Slave 1 dove into the canyon and took up position behind the Falcon. Inside the tiny cramped cockpit, Boba and Maul worked the controls sequentially. A year together had afforded them time to know and predict each other's actions; a perfect team. The bounty hunter ship rumbled forward and began blasting away with its autocannons. The blue engine flare of the Falcon just ahead, bobbing and weaving to avoid a hit. Chunks of canyon wall burst into powder and the Falcon banked hard to the left and right, doing everything it could to stay alive.

Boba pulled and pushed, yanked and adjusted, his skill being tested to the utmost as the smuggler tried every trick to lose his pursuer in the tight walls.

"Finish this quickly," hissed Maul as he pressed a few controls of his own.

"Trying… he's fast," mumbled the bounty hunter, tension building as each kilometer of canyon wall whisked past.

Now only a minute from the outskirts of the capital city and epicenter of the Imperial siege, the Falcon sustained a direct hit to its stabilizer, causing her to become sluggish and less responsive.

Under the helmet, Fett smirked as the blundering and blustering Falcon charged on, its top and bottom cannons firing backward to ward off the deadly Slave 1.

To the right.

To the left.

Han hugged the walls, using what he could to ward off the Bounty Hunter, but hope was fading fast. As Boba lined up a kill shot, an alarm rang and he glanced down at his own scope, letting the Falcon off the hook for a fleeting second. 

"Incoming from our rear... X-wing class."

Maul's eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at the radar,

 _The Rebel fighter is closing at double our present speed._ _Far faster than any regular pilot, especially in a tight canyon...  
_

Boba noticed this as well and now a single glance became two, then three.

"He's coming in at three-speed full throttle. He can't maneuver at that speed, he'll hit a wall."

Slave 1 and the Falcon continued their running battle, hugging the walls and stretching the maneuvering thrusters to the limit. But Maul no longer looked out of the cockpit, but down at the instrument panel tracking the incoming fighter. He knew.

"He's not going to hit a wall,"

The X-Wing raced on, Luke Skywalker at the controls. Skimming the walls and ground by only meters, he streaked towards his intended target. Under his orange visor, he wore a serious face, determined to save his friend and destroy the Sith once and for all.

Inside the Slave 1, Maul could not take his eyes off the rapidly closing signal, he sensed it. Sensed what he felt on that awful moon in the canteen when red and green saber met. Where he had been surprised by the authenticity of good spirit and raw power of the young Jedi.

"We are in danger" the Sith's voice soft, his mind looking to the immediate future,

Ahead, Luke saw the red thrusters of Slave 1, and just beyond, the blue engines of the Falcon.

 _Hang on Han, hang on._

The Falcon burst from the canyon and streaked along the salt flats just outside of the metropolis. Without winding walls for cover, Han felt totally exposed. Ahead lumbering walkers raised their sluggish heads and began firing, but the true danger came from behind. Slave 1 and the Falcon continued to exchange blasts, but Chewie and Han knew time was up.

"It's been fun…" whispered Han, but he did not see the X-Wing, his friend would not stop.

Now Luke exited the canyon, the white and cracked ground rushing past. Inside the X-Wing cockpit, the target lock beeped wildly as Slave 1 fell into the crosshairs. 

Luke pulled the trigger.

Red blaster bolts smacked into the back of the heavily modified and shielded Slave 1. Instead of violently exploding, it sparked and careened to the left under the onslaught. A significant hole opened in the rear and plasma fluid began venting into the atmosphere. Boba yanked the controls and the Slave 1 disappeared into hyperspace at the touch of a button, a second before total destruction.

 **Orbit above Vulcan**

"What can we do Kimmy?"

Kinnison studied the readouts from the static-filled sensor logs. The tractor beams had them in their solid grasp and no amount of additional power could break them free. Turbolasers smacked into the upgraded shields, Sulu calling out the power drop.

"Captain. Shields at forty percent…" another jarring hit, "thirty-two…"

Their primary phaser beam continued to drill into the bridge of the Vigilant, all available power now flowed through the main phaser coils, but results were mixed.

"Jimmy, the bridge shields seemed to have been enhanced, without those upgrades I think we'd have decapitated this thing already… let me see if I can find a weak point."

Far below, Scotty pulled his hair out in fits of frustration as bypass system after bypass system overloaded under the stress, until finally…

"Scotty to bridge, Scotty to bridge! That's it, the phaser coil has had it, it's just melted!"

Ahead, the blue beam of death sputtered and faded, but the turbolasers kept coming.

"Captain, our shields are at four percent, one more hit-" Sulu did not finish his sentence. The shield finally gave way and the ship shook violently. Atmosphere vented into space and three decks worth of men and women found death in icy space. Kinnison climbed back into his seat to observe the readouts of which he already knew. Most systems showed offline, including central computer and guidance controls.

"Captain to Scotty, get us some power… Scotty? Scotty!" Only the silence of unbroken static came from the engineering team. Horrifically, the hull breach had taken their lives, Scotty included.

Only five hundred kilometers away, still keeping Home One between itself and the Vigilant, Picard's Enterprise held its own tractor beam on the Rebel capital ship as the last of the escape pods lit their burners and headed for low orbit. All around, Rebel and Imperial ships were exploding in mutual destruction, the last of the Federation ships going down in a brutal exchange high above Vulcan. Now, only the Enterprises and the Vigilant remained.

"Captain, transmission coming in…" Picard raised an eyebrow and put it on the main viewer.

Grand Admiral Thrawn appeared, his red eyes scanning the broken and smoking bridge of the Federation flagship.

"Captain Picard, we have not yet spoken, and we will not have much of a chance I'm afraid. I only wanted to tell you how foolish it has been to follow Captain Kirk into battle. I know all about you Jean-Luc, studied your entire career. Watch now, as all hope ends."

Picard said nothing, only staring back at the red eyes and blue face on his flickering and nearly inoperable viewscreen. Both his helmsman and con operators dead lay dead. Behind him, Worf fell to one knee as he clutched a large piece of broken panel that protruded from his abdomen. It had exploded off the wall during a violent impact and embedded itself into the Klingon minutes ago.

Thrawn sneered as he watched the bridge carnage through his own viewscreen. He could taste victory, despite the surprise attack he knew he would prevail. _I never doubted this moment, my victory…_

"Your hero dies, and so too does your Federation and its people."

A flash of emotion washed over the captain, and his mind retreated back to the first day he became a Starfleet officer. The oath he swore to uphold, and the philosophy at which he lived. _Because of the Empire, Q… all for what? To test us? No… we will die as we have lived._ Now he smiled softly towards the Grand Admiral, _if the reason is just and honorable… we are prepared to lay down our lives..._

"That'll be the day..."

Leaping out of his seat, he ran up the ramp towards tactical where Worf now lay unconscious. Thick smoke obscured his vision, but he could see. Bumps and bruises from the raging battle still covered him, but he no longer felt pain.

From behind Home One, the Enterprise emerged ominously. Without fear, it sprang forward on its last legs, spraying phaser fire and photon torpedoes towards the Vigilant's bridge. Salvo after salvo smacked into the Super Star Destroyer as Picard ascended higher towards his fellow captain's immobilized ship.

From Kirk's vantage point, he watched Picard unload massive fire into his enemy all the while moving quickly towards his position. Immediately Jim knew what was going on and jumped out of his seat and whirled to face Uhura,

"Raise him!"

On Kirk's screen, the Enterprise-D flew in fast, continuing to spew everything it had, while drawing turbolaser fire away. After a few more desperate hails, the viewer switched to Picard,

Kirk blinked several times, absorbing the enormity and dire situation facing his colleague. The bridge no longer recognizable, but wholly smashed with bodies laying about. Only it's brave captain stood, handling the controls from the tactical station above the three command chairs.

"Can we beam him out?"

"Transporters are smashed…" replied Kinnison bitterly,

Reluctantly, James tried to say what he could, but what can someone say in a situation like this? Perhaps nothing, perhaps everything.

"Jean-Luc…"

Picard raised his hand dismissively and smiled, his face covered in soot from burning consols. The statesmen supported himself against the tactical control and pulled down his uniform, prepared, ready.

"Do not let them forget the name, Enterprise."

The viewscreen switched off and now instead of the Vigilant, Kirk saw Picard's Enterprise swoop in front of him, blocking Thrawn's tractor beam.

Kirk's Enterprise suddenly jolted backward as its engines were still straining at full power to break the hold. In a blinding flash of light, a heavy turbolaser, entirely fatal and heading for Kirk struck the Enterprise-D.

It exploded.

Kirk staggered back into his seat, almost collapsing from the shock of sacrifice just witnessed. Now only two ships remained in orbit above Vulcan.

Grand Admiral Thrawn seethed with anger, he clenched his fists and displayed a rare outburst of rage. _Kirk is out of range again!_ He closed his eyes and thought everything through.

"How are our shields?"

Needa rushed over and regurgitated the bad news,

"Kirk pushed our shields to the limit, we blew five generators. Picard's attack pushed our shields past the limit. Many systems are down, it's forced us to reroute shield power from the bow, tractor beams, life support on decks eight through fifteen and hanger control."

Thrawn mulled the situation over, his eyes not leaving the holographic display. The Enterprise sat far above, limping away beyond the range of his turbo lasers. _He is not returning fire. Why? Another surprise? Damage? Anything is possible. But I must not get carried away… the mission is a success. Earth is defenseless._

"Set course for Earth, jump when ready."

"Grand Admiral, we have rerouted engine generation to bridge shielding. It will take several minutes to root it back."

Thrawn nodded in acknowledgment,

All was quiet in space.

Onboard the Enterprise, the crew worked feverishly to get the weapon and defensive systems back online, but the prolonged bombardment by the Vigilant had taken its toll as well as the death of their chief engineer.

Kirk ground his teeth at the Super Star Destroyers coarse adjustment and charging hyperdrive.

 _They are heading to Earth..._

And so he sat and looked down at the ground in front of his chair.

And sat,

And sat,

Finally,

"All hands. Abandon ship."

Red alert klaxons wailed and flashed a bright red, those still alive rushed and shoved their way to escape pods. After a minute, the bridge doors hissed open and Bones appeared, his hands full of blood, the remnants of his many surgeries of the injured and dying.

"Jim, what the hell is going on?!"

Without looking back, Kirk warned his friend to get to safety, that the decision he had to make was final. After Bones protested and begrudgingly left the bridge, only Kinnison and Kirk remained. On the flickering screen, the Vigilant sat in low orbit, its drives charging for its departure to Earth. _Even a thirty-second barrage from that thing would kill millions on Earth..._

"Computer...acknowledge my authority."

In its broken speech, the backup computer responded to its captain's voice, the old and almost comedic system clanking and buzzing as it waited for its master's command.

"Initiate… self destruct sequence one, zero one." More clanking and whirling, the buttons flashed from right to left as the code fed its way into all systems.

"SELF DESTRUCT ACKNOWLEDGED. ONE, ZERO-ONE." 

A small bead of sweat made its way down Kimball's face, he could see exactly what his friend had in mind, knew the reasoning, the decisions that had led up to this moment. With no fleet to speak of, Earth lay defenseless against Thrawn who could cross the distance in a few hours. He knew Lt. Barkley raced against the clock to prepare the Genesis Torpedo, but that was being held for the Death Star and could not be wasted on the star destroyer.

"Computer. One, zero one…" the last word lingering on Kirk's lips, he raised his chin and finished the sequence with bated breath. "Execute." Upon the last word, the countdown began just as Kinnison sat down at the con position to pilot his ship along its final course. With auto controls destroyed, direction would need to be controlled manually.

The Enterprise rotated downward, its sublight propulsion burning hot as it moved closer towards Vulcan but away from the Super Star Destroyer.

"God protect us…" whispered Kinnison as he mentally detected the last escape pod jettison into space. The plan called for the Enterprise to circle Vulcan, using it as a slingshot to increase its speed beyond current capability. Kinetic energy and Cienna'a highly modified antimatter would plow into the bridge and completely destroy Thrawn and his ship.

As the Enterprise descended rapidly, Thrawn eyed his displays and called to his flight commanders on the ground.

"Scramble all fighters to orbit, shoot down that Federation starship!" he hissed into his communicator. On the ground, tie-fighters not yet destroyed by the marauding Millenium Falcon, blasted off and roared upward towards their target. With only one ship remaining, and seemingly damaged, the tie-fighters he felt could be useful. He looked over to his other screen, a plasma trail belched out of the engines of the Enterprise as it disappeared behind the planet.

Thousands of miles below, Luke blasted the last Imperial Walker before leveling off and sensing a message from the Force. A glimpse of the future. He had been so busy dogfighting with tie-fighters and taking out Imperial Walkers he had not had time to join the space battle. The number of civilians he saved could not be counted, but now, he felt a sense of dread. _Thrawn is heading for Earth._ Ahead of him, a major city loomed with billowing smoke high into the air, ground fire came from all directions but he ignored it. Caught in a trance, his eyes cast downward in thought.

And thought.

And thought.

"Luke to Han,"

"Ya kid?" came his friend over the crackly speaker,

"May the Force be with you."

The Jedi pulled on his stick and the X-Wing tore upward, through the smoke and clouds, its engines blasting red as he hurled upward into the atmosphere. Han attempted to return his friend's call but Luke ignored them as he climbed higher. Light blue turned to black as he reached outer space.

His mind traveled to Dagobah, back to his master Yoda's wise words. He smiled softly as he recited which he would remember forever.

 _Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter_

Setting a new course, he flew straight towards the Super Star Destroyer, his foils in the X position as he accelerated even faster than before.

Onboard the bridge of the Vigilant, Thrawn watched as a small red blip came up from the surface,

 _A single X-wing?_ He eyed it suspiciously, he felt it strange a lowly fighter would choose to engage his massive nineteen-kilometer ship.

"Fire at will."

Turbolasers lashed out, blasting and recoiling in rhythmic sequence. Green jets of energy flashed by Luke's canopy but could not land on target.

"Grand Admiral! Astromech computer-seven is indicating that it is the same X-Wing that destroyed the first Death Star!" 

Blood so rich with confidence now froze, a chord of fear suddenly struck, and everyone on the bridge called their subordinates to increase turbolaser fire. Thrawn took a backward step away from the windows, then two, then three. Too small and far to see, he knew the X-wing was inbound.

Around the back of the planet, Kirk gripped his chair as a fire broke out on the rear of the bridge. Tie-fighters endlessly peppered the floundering ship as the Enterprise came around the far side of the Vulcan, now traveling twice the speed otherwise possible.

"THIRTY SECONDS TO DETONATION."

Both men had said nothing as they flew their final mission, each understanding the reason and necessity of stopping Thrawn. Kimball could change his friend's mind if he needed to, but he felt the decision to be correct. Due to habit, the Lensman looked at the sensor scan and took a second glance. He could not believe it.

"Jim! An X-Wing is headed towards the Super Star Destroyer!"

Inside the fighter's cockpit, Luke no longer held the controls, his hands were free, resting comfortably while he breathed slowly through his nostrils. With his eyes closed, he piloted the small ship with his mind, the Force controlling the direction and power levels.

Peaceful. Quiet.

 _Jim...Jim…_

 _Luke? Luke? Is that you?_ Answered his confused friend, the first time he had been contacted by Luke through the Force.

 _Only through their heart can you win, goodbye._

Now flying over the superstructure of the Vigilant, turbolaser towers zipped past as the small fighter headed straight for the bridge. And as before with Yoda, the closer one gets to the Force, the more is revealed. Luke stretched his hand outright, as he had done in another life, guiding his X-Wing out of the swamp; only this time he used the Force with wisdom. Not hate, or anger, but passion.

Flying at maximum speed, his eyes remained closed but his mind saw everything. The future, the past, long friends long gone. Over his radio, he could hear Kinnison and Kirk begging him to stop, but he could not. They did not see the future as he did.

This was the only way.

As the X-Wing neared the bridge shield, Luke's eyes began to open. Only now, they were no longer blue and young, but shining white with raw power. His cockpit shone like an infant star, and a voice, a very familiar one, entered his mind for the last time.

 _Remember, the Force will be with you. Always._

Then he struck.

Whether the X-Wing penetrated the shield, or flattened against it, did not matter. For the power of the Force could be controlled through only the strongest of minds.

Luke Skywalker, Jedi, was gone.

And with him, in an eruption of cascading white energy, so too was the Vigilant and all aboard her, reduced to their component atoms.

The Enterprise slowed to a halt in the wondrous and mysterious glowing energy, the self-destruct sequence deactivated by Kirk in the nick of time.

All was quiet.

Grand Admiral Thrawn was defeated.


	40. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Prelude to the End

 **Milky Way - Beta Quadrant - Slave 1**

Darth Maul switched on the holonet display and bowed his head as the small cockpit dimmed and a pale-blue light illuminated the two men. Darth Sidious stood on a small holonet projector atop the cockpit controls.

"How may I serve master?" Maul's head tilting slightly down, waiting for Palpatine's orders, praise, or punishment.

"I am glad you survived the battle of Vulcan my apprentice. Know now that our fleet is lost, and so the destruction of Earth is a necessity. The Death Star will arrive within a day, with Earth's defenses all but gone, destruction is assured."

"I am happy master. What is it that you wish us to do?"

"Tune your holonet scanner to channel 233, there you will soon receive a secret message which will guide you to the coordinates of an Earth superweapon being commissioned to destroy not just the Death Star but Coruscant. Included in the message will be the exact shield frequency so you can bypass without issue."

Maul raised his head, a look of concern evident on his hard face.

"They have such a weapon?"

"Yes… but there is more…" the Emperor sneered as he voiced the next words, careful to emphasize the point. "The woman aboard the ship, Cienna. She must suffer. She must pay. Torture her, I want to feeeeel her pain through the Force. I expect this of you my apprentice. There are only three of them aboard, they will be no match for you."

The image flickered away and the light levels restored to normal. Boba, never to interrupt a conversation between the Emperor and Maul now voiced his skepticism.

"Our intelligence gathering has been finished for a while. We haven't had reliable undercover agents in months and the probes are offline. How can the Empire-"

Maul shot him a deadly look, the Force gently wrapping around Boba's neck,

"Do not question the orders of the Emperor."

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dalek Base**

The Supreme Dalek switched off the communications array and floated back towards the room of horror. The fake message to Maul and Boba had been a success. Having effortlessly hacked the Imperial network long ago, it was simple to send false signals. Upon entering the room, the familiar rattling of chains mixed well with the pitter patter of light feet as slaves ran about. Shifting its weight, the glob of heads and broken faces waited for the Dalek's return, eager to hear of the news.

"The transmission has successfully been delivered. Darth Maul will intercept the Dauntless."

 **YOG-SOTHOTH, YA-MEEHHAA** screamed the tortured heads in unison. Blood and bits of flesh falling to the ground as the meat hooks adjusted in the rotten flesh.

 **SOON THE GATE WILL OPEN**

The Supreme Dalek, despite it's consistent and thorough analysis did not quite understand the entirety of the Old Ones final plan. Words, impossible to translate still escaped meaning, and some ancient words not spoken since before time could not be deciphered.

"We C-O-N-T-R-O-L your future, W-E control your destination. Fail us, and you will be B-A-N-I-S-H-E-D!"

 **PAIN WILL SET US FREE**

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Vulcan**

Utterly exhausted, Kirk sat slumped in his captain's chair on the bridge of the wrecked Enterprise. Power systems once so full of energy and life faded and whizzed out for good. Damaged systems, too severe to repair spread like a virus. Backup systems failed one after another, with Kinnison's power of perception allowing him to see the inevitable outcome.

"Jim...we need to leave. Your crew is mostly safe in escape pods. Scotty… I don't think he made it. None of them did down in engineering. We have maybe ten minutes tops before the warp core goes critical."

Jim heard every word, but kept his eyes down as he rubbed his bloody and sweaty forehead. He couldn't shake the idea that Picard and Luke were both gone, seemingly sacrificing themselves not just to save him but the entire human race.

 _And Scotty… poor Scotty. He kept us going until the fight ended…_

His flickering and cracked viewscreen showed Vulcan, a smoldering ruin. A mushroom cloud five hundred miles across and high enough to peek over the curvature of the planet brought more death and destruction to the Vulcan people. Home One had done its damage.

But it was over.

Imperial ground forces devastated by the Falcon were being attacked by Vulcan militias and military personnel. More help would come, but time could not stop for the next issue to be solved.

Playing around with controls to try and draw power from some backup source, Kim sent a subspace message towards Earth to raise the man who so desperately needed to succeed.

On screen, a disheveled face came to view, his hair wild with stress and insufficient sleep. Lt. Reginald Barkley picked some dirt out of his eye as he stuttered on,

"Ca… ca... Captain Kirk, are you okay?"

"Nevermind me, how is Genesis? Is the weapon working? Will it activate?"

A long pause and a deep sigh came from the overworked and tremendously stressed lieutenant. Kirk's eager expression waned, the realization and terrific failure of his plan and gambit now began to pass.

"We can't get it to work captain... we can't get the coils to fire. I'm so sorry."

Kinnison's head hung low, he knew the specifications of the Death Star due to his time spent on Kuat. There was no way they could stop it, even with a fleet ten times the original size.

 _The Genesis torpedo was our only shot…_

Kirk thanked Barkley and switched off the display; quiet filled the bridge. After a moment, a hot and guilt-ridden Kirk stood up from his chair and grabbed the closest object available. With overflowing frustration, the captain unclipped his replicated lightsaber from his belt and wound his arm back to hurl it forward. As he did so he froze; fixated on the weapon in his hand.

An idea.

 _...there is still good in him…but who was Luke talking about?_ Kinnison followed the wavelength and chimed in,

"His father, it must be."

Not having ignited the lightsaber since his duel with Luke, Kirk pressed the button and the bright yellow saber glowed and hummed in front of him. Likewise, Kinnison ignited his, a bright blue radiated outward. He waved it around, it whooshed and whizzed, he then thought back to his battle with Vader.

He could still feel the Force clutching his neck, squeezing the life out of him against the wall. But it was far from one-sided, _If I wore my Lens… I might penetrate the defense._

Kirk noticed his friend looking deep into the blue blade, his eyes wandering into his past.

"You know Kim… it could be suicide…"

Kimball pressed the button again and the saber zipped back into its holster,

"Lensman always go in."

Kirk smiled and holstered his own, he had a plan. A crazy, aggressive, insane idea. He pulled out his communicator and called the only ship within range.

"Han, we need to be picked up."

A slow and sad reply came in; evidently the smuggler had followed his radar and realized what had happened.

"OK… I'll be there in a minute…"

Kimball sighed as he considered everything, they would be at a severe disadvantage, facing incredible odds.

"This won't be fair."

Kirk tapped the lightsaber on the palm of his hand, thinking of the next moves. And as he did so, a hint of something in his eyes, a sparkle.

"It certainly won't."

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Kronos**

It was not easy for Captain Kirk to abandon his beloved Enterprise, it's catastrophic warp core failure occurring several minutes after he beamed aboard the Millenium Falcon. He wished to wait for it to explode, a final goodbye to his ship.

 _I will avenge you…_

The hundreds of missions and encounters, the unbelievable distances traveled, his love. The ship had been their home, _Cienna… what have I done…_

After ensuring his crew had landed safely on the planet surface they headed off.

The flight to Kronos was somber, especially for the pilot. Han had lost his best friend, the young man who had once begged for a ship to Alderaan in a stingy bar on Tatooine. He sighed and tried to keep himself busy with the controls, but his mind wandered. He thought of Leia, who he had not seen or spoken to in so long, he prayed she was OK.

 _When this is all over, I'm going back for her._ He imagined a small place in the outer rim where he would call home. Leia had laughed at the idea of them settling down but he had persisted. Once the Empire fell, they could move away from it all. _I'll pay my debts and that will be it._ He flew the rest of the flight with a small smile on his face, his daydreams keeping him occupied.

Upon arriving in orbit, Kimball and Kirk beamed down to the surface where they had once gone, hopeful but nervous.

"Gravemind!" Shouted Kirk into the dusty air. Buildings once tall and rigid now crumbled and sunk to the ground. Essential parts for space travel had been cannibalized out of their outer structures for raw materials. The Flood had been busy building a large navy, with untold billions of forms to help construct them in shipyards all over the Galaxy.

Dust whipped past the duo while Kinnison sent out his mind in search of the great beast. Before long, the ground shook and a vast chasm opened before them. Gusting wind and a stench of a million dead filled their nostrils, the colossal worm rose up, five times its previous size. Decomposing bodies twisted and crunched as it positioned itself hundreds of feet above them.

"Children, what is it that you seek," it grumbled.

Kirk held his hand before his face to block the biting sand,

"Gravemind! Will you destroy the Death Star for us? It threatens humanities survival!"

As Kirk asked his questions, the Lensman sent his mind into the collective consciousness, hoping to probe for answers. The world faded and he once again found himself in the labyrinth of smoke and doors. Standing in a dark room, he reached down to grab the smoke, or in this case, the thought-wave. But like real smoke, it slipped through his fingers, instead, wrapping itself around his closed fist. He walked forward, the fog-like thoughts whisking away in the small breeze he created.

In the real world, the worm lowered itself to only fifty feet above the two, it's giant mouth moving and forming words grotesquely.

"The Death Star will not bring an end. Even in Earth's destruction. Only a new beginning. Humanity exists elsewhere."

Kirk held his fist up, shaking it in the air towards the serpent,

"But billions will die!"

Lightning fast tentacles lashed out and grabbed the captain and hoisted him into the air, twisting and pulling him into an upside down position. Kirk fought against them but it was useless, he could not win a physical battle. Sensing a mind within his, he closed his eyes and prepared, breathing slowly and allowing the Gravemind in.

In a darkroom he stood with his head tilted down and eyes closed. He did not need to see. Fog encircled his body, but instead of trying to reach for it, or talk to it, he opened himself up.

 _This is my dream, where the child passes the father,_

He raised his hands to either side and slowly began to fade, Kinnison who also occupied the same telepathic space could not believe his eyes. Rushing over, his hand went straight through the captain's body, he was now part of the dream, part of the fog.

Kirk took a deep breath and now brought his hands up towards him, he flexed hard and willed the Gravemind into him. Smoke whirled about and began rushing into the faded and shimmering captain. A blast of light tossed Kinnison through a wall and then out of the dream. He stood on the surface of Kronos, looking up at the dangling captain, not moving or struggling. He was about to shout when he noticed something else,

 _The Gravemind is also frozen in one spot…_

Inside the place where both Kirk and the Gravemind occupied, the mind or soul, now the captain wrestled with the fog. Forming into a giant worm, the shifting image wrapped itself around the captain in an attempt to swallow his essence. Kirk's eyes were still closed, but his hands were choking the shapes perceived neck, squeezing with everything he had. A shockwave traveled in all directions and blew apart the walls, now the Gravemind began to grow, its mind focusing on its insubordinate child.

 _We are in control here child, where reality bends to the will..._

With a cry of anguish, Kirk's right leg began to falter and his knee started to lower towards the black floor. Growing, the Gravemind squeezed and crushed, the captain unable to match the collective consciousness of the Precursors. He could feel the thoughts of the Creator judging him. But he did not care, only one thought ran through his mind.

 _I cannot fail_

Kirk pushed his mind, but instead of projecting outward, he opened his consciousness, to draw the Creator in. Captain and fog began to fuse together, the whirling chaos of fog fought to free itself. Kirk screamed with all his anger and fury as he fought back. Slowly, surely, his knee began to straighten.

 _You! … Cannot! … Beat me!_

Matching the worm's height, the captain began to open his eyes, the fog morphing into an insectoid Precursor from long ago. It brought its hands up and clenched the throat of the captain, but the gesture was returned in spades.

 _We are in control child, submit,_

 _NO! I am… in..._ Kirk's mental strain pushing him past the breaking point, past what one would consider pain and suffering, _...command... I will always be in... command…_

With a final herculean push, the dream broke apart and Kirk found himself laying on his back on the ground with Kinnison slapping his face to wake him.

"Jimmy! Jimmy! God, what the hell!" Kinnison pulled his friend off the ground and dusted off his tattered uniform. High above the Gravemind rumbled and slobbered, its tentacles withdrawing into the ground before it finally spoke,

"Very good child, you are growing, a fraction to us and to the whole, but small steps are taken."

Kinnison paid little attention, unable to take his eyes off his dusty and bloodied friend. Despite the Lensman's raw power, his ability to project his mind both narrow and wide, his friend possessed something else. _What just happened inside the dream…?_

Continuing to slurp and twist, the Gravemind addressed what Kirk had tried to convey inside the mental tug-of-war.

"Captain Solo is now receiving a gift. We can see your vision, your actions, your passion. Go now, and bypass the screens."

"Thank you Gravemind. I only ask one last question. When does the attack begin against the Daleks?"

"It already has captain, our ships move now against them. So too does your companions. Your great love."

Kinnison and Kirk looked at one another, they knew this was it. The final battle to save all reality. As each gathered his thoughts, a white flash appeared behind them and they turned to see,

"Q…"

The self-proclaimed god-being stood with arms crossed, his strange white-silk outfit flapping in the gusty winds of the recycled Kronos city. His pompous look replaced by a serious demeanor, not stress, but concern filled his face.

"Kirky and Kimmy."

Kirk stepped forward, seething in anger,

"You cold-blooded killer! You could stop this, all of it!" His hands waving out into the sky and beyond. "Death. Destruction. Why!? Why Q, why?"

Dismissing the questions with a wave of his hand, he casually approached the two men. Kim sent a mental probe which was swatted away like an errant fly. Q snickered in amusement at the idea his thoughts could be penetrated by a mortal.

"Lensman, I am as far above you as you are above that grain of sand you step on."

Kirk crossed his arms and studied the strange outfit,

"Nice pajamas,"

Q's mouth was half open and ready to continue when he rolled his eyes at the interruption and insult. He despised the man, the wayward-mortal dared insult him now and before. But he could not deny the resolve he showed or the fortitude in the struggles of the test.

"You ask why Captain? Why do I do this? I do not do this personally. I do not steer the conflict. I set up the pieces and let everyone's nature shape the conflict. I am the judge, jury, and executioner. Do you think I am different than the Precursors? The Gravemind judges you. It judges all its children. They killed trillions in many galaxies from long ago. The difference, is that I allow the conflict to play out and let actions unfold that come natural to those involved. Go on your mission gentlemen. It is your final test, the test for all humanity. We in the Continuum have been watching and evaluating your actions from afar. The test is nearly done, and whether you pass or fail will come down to your final actions." With a gesture, Q snapped his fingers and both figures disappeared onto the Falcon.

Alone, Q looked up towards the assortment of decomposing bodies,

"Brother, it has been a long time."

"Our brethren, so much to discuss, so little time…" croaked the Gravemind.

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Hyperspace**

Almost four hours after Kirk and Kimball were sent flashing into the Falcon's cockpit and giving Han a near heart attack, they rocketed through hyperspace for their interception. But this journey was not one without a quick stop.

"Well that was easy…" noted Han as he checked his instruments.

"Yes, let us just say, we have an understanding."

Leaving the strange planet far in their wake, Plato's Step Children still remembered the beating they received from Kirk and his crew upon their visit years ago, in his old life and timeline.

"So what is that stuff? Looks like poison,"

Kimball flipped the small injectable cylinder around in his hand, studying the design with his power of perception. He almost laughed when he considered how much his friend Jim hated losing, and what distances he would go to tilt a battle in his favor.

"It's not poison, it's a serum, found only on that planet. We landed there years ago, only to be tricked and trapped. But…" he now held the cylinder against his thigh and depressed the button. A loud hiss and pop signaled the injection into his bloodstream. "...we learned to use the power. The power to move objects with our minds and we fought back. This dose is five times what I injected into myself years ago. The problem is, it takes time to work."

"We are going to fight fire with fire, power with power," commented Kinnison, injecting his own cylinder.

Han nodded half-interested before turning back towards the whirling vortex, he noted the readout.

"Thirty seconds, good luck,"

Thirty seconds passed,

Nothing.

An alarmist feeling overcame Solo, the Death Star was not where it was supposed to be. The whirling vortex came to an abrupt halt, and everyone jostled forward under the deceleration. The hyperspace denial system around Earth's solar system pulled everything out of hyperspace and now the bright white and blue energy was replaced by the endless blackness of space.

"The Death Star must be further ahead than we thought, we'll catch it." The smuggler pushed the levers further into the dashboard and the afterburning thrusters flared to life. Much lighter than the battle station, the Falcon could move in sublight speed at a substantially faster rate.

"Unless it's way out ahead, we should catch it before it reaches its maximum firing distance."

Pressure so tense it could be cut with a knife filled the cockpit, and for the next hour the Falcon made its way into Earth's solar system from the far outskirts. After a stressful chase, a bleep appeared on Chewie's scope, he growled in acknowledgment.

"I see it, I see it. Watch that power coupling as we make our approach."

Everyone fixated on the small point, and slowly but surely, it grew. After half an hour, the immense and looming ender-of-worlds filled the entire cockpit window. At nine-hundred kilometers in diameter, it dwarfed anything mobile within the Milky Way. Bristling with guns and a powerful planetary shield, it could merely plow its way through any defense. Steering the Falcon higher along the axis, Han hoped to get them into optimal range before incoming fire pushed him away.

Walking back to the transporter, Kimball stopped Kirk just before they stepped on the transporter pad.

"Jim. We will have about fifteen minutes before it can fire. But listen... do you want me to contact Cienna before we go…"

Adjusting his phaser pistol to kill, he slid it into his holster before answering. Kirk desperately wanted to speak with Cienna again, to give her all his love,

 _But she cannot get distracted, she must complete the mission… or all this is for nothing._

"No... " but his answer did not roll off the tongue easily, it came out slow and painful. Kim knew the why, and he knew the pain. He stepped onto the transporter with his friend and turned to shake his hand,

"It's been an honor,"

Accepting his hand, Jim smiled and nodded his head in thanks,

"Good luck Lensman,"

Kimball smiled and pulled a metallic bracelet out of his pocket, on it, a beautiful Lens stone. It pulsated slowly in exotic greens, purples and oranges. He stared at it, its color reflecting off his eagle eyes,

 _There is no holding back now, we have reached the end of the line…_

Snapping it onto his wrist, he pressed the transporter commands and the two whirled into glistening energy before disappearing.

 **Death Star - Throne Room**

At the bottom of the steps and in front of the elevator door, two men materialized through the planetary shield. Kirk and Kimball spun their heads like a top while red-clad Royal Guards rushed forward with their weapons drawn. The six fanatical guards screamed for them to surrender,

"We are here in peace.." replied Kirk who raised his hands into the air. Both men scanned the throne room before setting their sights upward towards the oversized chair. The chair faced the window, and beside it, the towering Vader, his rhythmic breathing all too familiar to Kinnison.

"Down on your knees!" Shouted the lead guard, he jabbed Kirk hard in the ribs and the captain dropped, followed by Kim.

Now the chair and Vader turned slowly towards the new visitors, a small chuckle echoing into the room. Sitting in his chair, the supreme ruler of the Empire scoffed at the silly attempt of these two men.

"Heroic fools… I have been expecting you," he oozed. "Have you come to stop me?" Continued the Emperor. Rising slowly out of his seat and walking towards the top of the staircase; his withered face obscured by the drooping hood. Vader following in lockstep, his weight shifting between each foot as he swayed forward. "Did you think you could come aboard _my_ battle station and change the outcome? Soon your planet Earth will be destroyed and your pathetic Federation along with it."

Captain Kirk raised his hands, his overdramatic action almost laughable,

"Your Highness, we are not here to fight, we are here representing Earth. We surrender."

A sneer crossed the old man's face, he was not born yesterday, and did not buy it for a second. Q had warned him that two men were on their way, two heroes of Earth who would try a last ditch effort to foil his ultimate victory. As Palpatine reached out with the Force to untangle their plans, Vader could not take his eyes off Kinnison. He knew that face and body, the bag of rocks masquerading as a man.

 _Yes… that is him!_

"Master," grumbled Vader who was reaching for his lightsaber, "that is the telepath I faced on Outland Transit Station!"

Palpatine's head snapped sideways in surprise,

 _What!?_

Suddenly, the tremendous power of the Lens and Lensman smacked into the Force users like a sledgehammer. Palpatine and Vader reeled in pain, the indescribable physiological drill pressing inward.

Kirk jumped to his feet, and like a gunslinger of the wild west, quick-drew his phaser and fired at full power.


	41. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Deadly Intent

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dalek Base**

"A-L-E-R-T! A-L-E-R-T!" Squawked a communications Dalek from his station. It's eye-stock spun towards the Supreme perched above on its command platform. "Detecting incoming plague ships on all vectors."

The deeper voiced Supreme Dalek assessed the information and immediately took action. The war they wanted, the war they begged for now came to their doorstep. For a year they had laid low, careful not to give away their true potential. They reveled in conflict, they yearned for it, itching to battle.

Now they would have their chance,

"Charge Probability C-A-N-O-N!. Enable D-Mat guns. Erect gravity shields." The Supreme moved towards the Battle Computer and tied itself into the main control systems. "WE ARE READY FOR WAAARRRRR"

Omnidirectionally, two-MILLION Flood ships exited slipspace around the giant black hole. Behind them, thousands of Star Roads shimmered into view, all moving towards the Dalek base. Immediately, Flood ships sent their transport signals into the Dalek defense to try and board and overtake it from within. Unlike Imperial and human-level shields, the transport signals hit a metaphorical 'brick wall.'

Gates hidden in the accretion disk slowly began to open. Technology entirely and utterly foreign to any creature in the conflict now revealed itself for the first time. Larger on the inside hangers now released their combat platforms and began punishing the incoming plague horde. A beam resembling a search lite on a sailing vessel swept the skies, the spewing energy vaporizing all in its path. The Probability Gun, another instrument of destruction erased Star Roads from existence, not vaporization or atomic reorganization, but deletion.

Inside the larger on the inside command posts and Dalek constructs, entire stars were being shrunk down in a matter of seconds and fed into the weaponry. Thousands of Flood ships burst apart or disappeared from reality every second. The Gravemind, of which there were many, but just one, worked feverishly to match wits with the Battle Computer and Supreme Dalek's mastery of warfare.

"Send a signal to Boskone, order them to assist in our defensive efforts," requested the Supreme Dalek. While it was confident their defense could hold, the Dalek's knew their ally had many resources that could be brought to bear to take care of the infected planets throughout the galaxy.

After a minute of waiting, a signal came in,

"Do not fire your superweapon at the Q until you have installed this piece. Our fleets are inbound. Hold the line."

A highly encrypted signal was received, detailing a new component to their already impressive superweapon. The Dalek compounds were synthesized, the pieces installed, but this new item came from Eddore itself.

The Dalek's studied it, trying to decide if it would add to the effectiveness of the weapon. The revelation that a human could upgrade their systems gave further evidence to the Dalek's theory that something brilliant controlled mirror-Kirk and the rest of Boskone. Outside, the battle raged on, inside, a fierce analysis ensued on the piece.

"Install it as directed," ordered the Supreme Dalek after it had reviewed all potential issues.

Outside, massive bombardments of Precursor weapons smacked into the shielding of the Dalek base. Depending on the attack, the reaction from the shield would be different. In some cases, the incoming fire was being absorbed and redistributed back into the offensive systems, in other cases, the Flood energy beams curved up and around the bases, the gravity shield preventing any contact.

Star Roads combined into new structures with escalating lethality, trying desperately to reach the cluster of Dalek platforms.

"The Star Roads are adapting to our Probability Weapon!" Shrieked a Dalek supervising its deployment. Outside the Gravemind worked to arrange the ether tendrils in such a way to absorb the blasts. And for a few minutes the Star Roads gained ground, closing in on the base in an attempt to crush it. A permanent white saturation of light encompassed the entire starfield. The bombardment so fierce and frequent that no individual color could standout.

"Nothing adapts like the D-A-L-E-K-S! We ARE THE MASTER RACCCEEEE! Activate Horizon Tractor! Prepare for superweapon firing against the Q." The Supreme sent the order along to his subordinates and before long, an event not thought possible occurred. Housed inside the bigger on the inside reservoirs of near infinite space, exotic super-elements split and combined to generate untold power. The Super Black Hole at the center of the Milky Way began to SPLIT apart.

The 'event' which it shall be called created a tunneling effect of gravity which the Dalek's expertly wielded for their own purposes. Like a giant tractor beam, this tunneling of super concentrated gravity sucked the Star Roads into the depths of the singularity.

War. Hell. All were one in the center of the galaxy.

The Omnidirectional attack continued, with trillions and trillions of square kilometers making up the battle-scape.

But there was one ship not attacking.

At least not yet.

Coming out of transwarp just behind the Star Roads, the Dauntless jostled and jolted like an airplane caught in turbulence. Cienna snapped on the dimmers as soon as they entered real space, and even then, she had to hold her hand in front of her eyes. The light show from the crisscrossing weapons dazzled and sparkled.

Cienna reached up and pulled the mechanical visor down from the ceiling and placed it in front of her face. All system readouts were present in a virtual environment, she could see the internal and external of the ship, including the stealth and propulsion systems.

"Shields at maximum, propulsion at maximum." As promised by the Gravemind, a trajectory route activated within the Dauntless computer system and displayed inside the visor. The route had been mapped out, the attack plan readied. With her right hand, Cienna gently moved the joystick so the Dauntless stayed in the tunnel trajectory. Her eye scanned the speed,

[[116,232 KM/SEC]]

"We will be in target range in nine minutes,"

Spock nodded in agreement and exited the bridge to join Data in the rear of the ship. The Magnetic Corridor Weapon(MCW) designed to be mechanical and not electronic for anti-hacking purposes needed direct supervision and manipulation to prime for firing. As Spock made his way through the elongated ship, he considered the strange occurrences he had discovered along the journey to the center of the galaxy. A remote log entry had appeared on an in-depth diagnostic not commonly used. It was almost by accident that the entry was discovered, causing him, Cienna, and Data, to theorize as to what happened.

At several points along their journey an encoded transmission had left the ship; it's destination and message unknown.

 _Curious that the transmissions occurred at random times..._

Walking quickly through the tight corridors resembling a submarine of 20th century Earth, he held firm against the walls of the straining ship. He could only imagine the hellish nightmare of discharges outside and he hoped Cienna would pilot them along the correct trajectory. An especially violent blast threw him against a bulkhead before he righted himself and continued on his way. Rounding a corner, he saw commander Data inputting something into a terminal.

"Hello Mr. Data, what is it that you are doing?"

Without looking up, the Android continued his fleury of inputs, one hand flying over the keys, the other holding onto a bulkhead to help steady himself.

"I am attempting to modify our shield matrix to better protect against the energy bursts we are experiencing."

Raising an eyebrow, Spock walked over and observed the changes, he was surprised by what he saw.

 _These are insufficient…_

"Mr. Data, these changes are in no way useful to our current predicament. These are simply the shield frequency algorithms; useless against an enemy who does not use frequency based weapons or transporters."

Data's eyes fluttered as some deeply seeded program ran in the background. He smiled and displayed his usual warm demeanor.

"You are correct, my apologies."

Closing the system access, Spock's eyes noted one point of interest.

 _Typing input at 923 words per minute…_ He thought back to the analysis Cienna and he had completed. Initially, the carefully disguised adjustments had appeared to be computer driven, but now the infamous Vulcan brought pieces of the puzzle together.

 _Encryption input was over 2000 words per minute…_

A frantic Cienna called from the cockpit and Spock immediately pulled out his communicator,

"Spock! Another transmission just went out!"

 _If Data can type at 923 words per minute on a single hand, it is reasonable he could input 2000 with two..._

At the news of the transmission detection, Data's right hand began to move towards his phaser. The Dalek subroutine ran nonstop behind his morality programming, changing critical settings in order for him to carry out his primary mission. Having been compromised the moment he hooked into the Federation mainframe, he had been a puppet ever since. Now the subroutine was telling him he was in danger, and that the mission was in jeopardy.

In the cockpit, Cienna fought the joystick to maintain the designated trajectory. The Dauntless slipped through the chaotic mess of exploding ships and powerful sweeping beams of energy. Beside her, a Star Road shriveled like a grape under the bombardment of insane beams she scarcely understood. She glanced down at the time to target,

[[Time to Target - 00:08:02]]

 _Eight minutes to firing range…_

"Spock to Cienna," came the Vulcan's voice over the speaker, "please list the last three shield grids that were access-"

The communicator went to static and a wailing alarm erupted, Cienna's heart jumped and she glanced at the readout,

[[Internal Phaser Fire: Section A7]]

 _What the hell!?_ She radioed for an update but there was no response. _That's where Spock and Data were priming the weapon…_ Keeping one eye on the controls and another on the internal cameras, she tried to spot the problem. Room after room showed no movement or sign of her two passengers. Especially troubling; the lights were out. A massive blast then rocked the ship causing her head to bang against the visor display. She winced in pain and felt her forehead, blood smeared along her hand. Anger, once a simmer, started to boil,

 _We have come so far! NO! We will finish this!_

"Spock… Data! Are you ok? What is going on?"

Nothing.

 _The weapon must be manually primed…_ The precautions to negate Dalek hacking presented a double-edged sword, she sighed deeply and closed her eyes.

 _Where are they...what happened… if they don't start the arming process soon it will be too late._

Taking one last look at the target indicator, she set the ship to autopilot and grabbed her phaser. She looked at it carefully, then, she pulled a lightsaber out of a compartment. _James, you said I'd never need to use it… what a story this will be_

[[Time to Target - _00:06:25]]_

With the phaser in her right hand and lightsaber in the left, she carefully made her way along the grated floor and tight corridors towards the rear of the ship. She stopped at the entrance to the large room with toxic chemicals and fuel components, the lights were flickering and there was a scorch mark on the wall. Her eyes darted left to right and then back again. She took one step, then another, her body now completely out in the open. While highly intelligent she was no fighter, having little to no training with the phaser or lightsaber. Her time had been focused on developing the superweapon and upgrading the Enterprise shields and phaser beams.

 _It's so hard to see in this light…_

Ahead lay the entrance to the back half of the ship, a rectangular passage, totally dark, the lights deactivated. Quickly moving to the right, Cienna pressed her body against the cold steel wall and peered around the corner.

Darkness. Silence.

Leading with her phaser, she hugged the wall and moved inward, able to see no more than a few feet. Twisting her body around extruding bulkheads and other obstacles, she eyed every corner and obstacle. Kinnison had not designed the ship for creature comforts, only to be as deadly and efficient as possible. Large tubes and energy transfer systems cluttered the walk space and she ducked under one to continue her search.

She took another step, and as her foot touched the metal grate a hand wrapped around her head and pulled her into a corner. The firm grasp covered her mouth, and she thrashed and tried to scream but stopped as soon as she heard her friend,

"Cienna," Spock's gentle voice was just above a whisper, "Stay still and quiet, we are in danger."

Releasing his grip, Cienna pushed deeper into the corner and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"What's going on? Where is Data? The computer told me a phaser fired,"

Spock moved in front of her and peered around the dark corner before returning and answering the question.

"Mr. Data has been compromised by an unknown force. I discovered it was he who accessed the logs and sent out the signals. I attempted to arrest him."

 _Data's Positronic Net is very advanced… who could have-_ Her own thoughts brought her to the most reasonable conclusion. Cienna's eyes widened in stark realization.

"The Daleks…" she whispered in horror.

"Agreed. It seems they are the likely candidates. Regardless, we must prime the weapon."

Creeping onward down the wall and towards the rear of the ship, Cienna reminded herself of the mission time. _Only a few minutes left..._ Meter by meter, bulkhead by bulkhead, their heads spun as if on swivels, searching and cautiously advancing towards the MCW. After a minute, they reached the entrance to the main operations room where the weapon's equipment was housed. Cienna's heart pounded in her ears, and despite the darkness, she experienced profound tunnel vision.

"On three…" whispered the Vulcan,

"...one"

"...two"

"...three."

Jumping around the corner, both saw Data standing at a control terminal typing with one hand, a phaser in the other. His head snapped up and his arm immediately followed.

Spock fired.

Cienna fired.

Data fired.

A bright flash of bursting energy flashed across the room as Spock's phaser smacked into

Data's shoulder joint. A shower of white sparks erupted, and the Android crashed to the ground behind a terminal. Cienna and Spock landed with a thud and crawled behind their own terminal, scampering as close to it as possible, their phasers at the ready. Cienna then smelt it, burning hair. Data's phaser had missed her head by an inch, singeing her long beautiful hair as she went crashing to the ground.

"Data! What are you doing?!" Shouted Cienna from behind the terminal.

Neither expected an answer, but as they crouched and peered around their protective station, the Dauntless computer blared over the speakers.

 **ALERT! Unauthorized Shield Penetration. Two transport signals have penetrated shield grid A7**

Spock and Cienna both looked at each other, A7 was just around the corner.

"Computer, how long until we are in range?" she shouted into the air,

 **FOUR MINUTES, EIGHT SECONDS**

Incoming phaser fire caused the duo to hunker down as Data stumbled behind a transfer coil, his body spasming from the extensive damage from Spock's attack. As he slid up against the unit, the Android's head peered around the corner to try and locate his foes. The Dalek programming prevented him from destroying the ship, instead, he was to disable the weapon and wait for backup. He did not understand why he could not stop the Dauntless, but that did not matter. As he peered, he saw Cienna's foot shuffle behind the terminal and decided on a course of action. He calculated a sixty-percent chance of success.

Cienna's beautiful face slowly rose and peered into the flickering light, she had heard him stamper into a new position but she could not tell where. Her eyes looked at the terminal, then to the bulkhead.

Her heart jumped.

Data's phaser was pointing straight at her.

Time froze.

 _No…_

But it was not to be. A buzz of energy and flying sparks preceded Data's rolling head as it bounced across the floor. Cienna screamed.

Standing over Data's slumped body was Darth Maul, and emerging from the shadows behind him, Boba Fett. Cienna wasted no time, she fired, followed by a quick blast from Spock. The Sith effortlessly caught their incoming fire with his double lightsaber, twirling and dancing with trained grace. Boba jumped to the side and fired a quick blast, striking Spock's left arm with a sickening pop of bursting flesh and superheated green blood. The Vulcan grunted in pain and ducked down to take cover, but not before receiving a second blast square to the chest.

Cienna reached over to help Spock pull himself to cover,

"Spock!"

A gaping wound burrowed deep into his chest. Green blood oozed down his arm and over his blue uniform. He wheezed for air and his head rested against the back of the terminal. Cienna sprang up and fired two more quick blasts, each absorbed by the lightsaber while Maul moved to close the distance, Boba right behind.

"Spock!" she shouted again, the Vulcan's head bobbed and his mind slipped in and out of consciousness. Cienna desperately thought of what she could do. The priming mechanism was right in front of her, but fully exposed to Boba's deadly fire.

 _Even if I prime it, they'll just kill me and turn it back…_

Spock murmured a few words,

"Must… prime…"

He then took his blood-soaked phaser and placed it into the free hand of his friend,

"G...go… I will prime the weapon...," his lucid eyes fighting to focus.

Cienna winced as another bolt rang out and struck the wall behind her,

"What? No. No no no,"

Spock caught his head as he dipped into unconsciousness, pulling himself back to convey his thoughts,

"Cienna…" he gurgled, "draw the Sith away...light the chemicals to buy you time...using…"

Just as intelligent, she looked down at both phasers in her hands. She did not want to leave. But she knew everything rested on the MCW. All life, everywhere. She closed her eyes and mentally prepared,

 _3...2...1...GO!_

Cienna jumped up and fired both phasers while simultaneously running towards the dark tunnel leading towards the cockpit. She screamed in fear. She screamed in excitement. She screamed for strength.

"AHHHH! Come on Maul!" Bolting down into the dark tunnel, she continued to fire while running backward. The whizzing and whirling lightsaber twirled one way than another, catching the phaser attacks with ease. Maul peered into the darkness, she was his target, he must make her suffer.

 _Master will be pleased…_

Reaching straight out into the air with his hand, he closed it quickly as if squeezing something. A horrific snap of bone echoed in the halls and a terrible scream of pain rang out. The Sith smiled before moving to give chase.

Boba watched his leader disappear before turning his attention to the growing area of green blood pooling behind the terminal. Raising his weapon and inching forward, he saw the Vulcan's leg, and as he continued around the side of the terminal, Spock's slumped form came into view. He sat with his back against the console base, his head bobbing in and out of consciousness. Boba pushed the rifle against Spock's temple and smiled under his mask,

"So long Vulcan."

A snap of energy erupted, Spock pulled his blue lightsaber while simultaneously grabbing Boba's gun with his other hand. As the lightsaber came up, Boba's pupils dilated and his eyes grew to the size of saucers. The legendary bounty hunter reacted instinctively, a shot rang out and he dove on the Vulcan to grab the arm wielding the Jedi weapon. The blaster bolt had missed by an inch and now both men fought desperately for control of both the lightsaber and blaster rifle.

Not too far off, Cienna crawled, scampered, and hobbled towards the cockpit. Seven ribs had been crushed by Maul's Force attack, the splintered bones ripping into the internal organs they were designed to protect. Her beautiful white dress a tattered mess of sweat and blood, as she clumsily moved forward, Maul stalked her like a jungle cat. He stood only a few dozen feet behind, his lightsaber sparking the floor and walls, it was his way of enhanced intimidation and fear.

 _Fear is my ally...Master will feel her pain,_

Maul reached out again with the Force, he could feel her spine, her organs, her throat, and as he squeezed, Cienna screamed like never before.

[[Time to Target - 00:02:12]]


	42. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Earth on the Brink

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Deathstar**

Darth Vader shoved his master to one side while moving quickly to the other. The old man went tumbling to the ground as Kirk's phaser heated the air between them. Simultaneously, the Lens attached to Kinnison's wrist lit up like a Christmas tree, and radiating colors dazzled the room. A telepathic drill smashed into the dark side protective shell the Emperor and Vader erected a moment ago.

Like Outland Transit Station except to a greater degree, the world in which the Emperor and Vader occupied, exploded into a nightmare of deafening noise and inescapable pain. Their entire sensory input scrambled as both yelled from the ferocious attack. The Captain's phaser while missing the Emperor caught Vader's shifting body, vaporizing a small piece of mask and flapping cape. Anger inside both Sith's shot through the roof.

Anger was strength. Anger brought the dark side.

Seething unbridled hate flowed through the Emperor as he tumbled to the ground, his eyes flashed raw, and down below at the bottom of the steps, he saw his enemy. Welling up from deep down, the Dark Side erupted outward, the protective mindshield increasing in power and the pain subsiding as a benefit. About to fire another blast of his phaser, Kirk suddenly felt the weapon wrench from his hand and go flying across the room.

The Royal Guards, now slaves of Kinnison, raised their weapons and fired upwards towards the lumbering Vader and laying Palpatine. Bolts sizzled and disappeared into thin air, somehow blocked or absorbed by the dark duo. Kinnison realized he could not apply the same amount of pressure to both, so he concentrated almost his entire effort on Palpatine, he could not let the old man off-the-hook.

Grimacing in pain, Palpatine slowly rose to his feet, his hand outstretched to project a sphere of protection. Dark energies which would routinely flow, now took a back seat as he held his block firm. He could not access the powers of lightning without letting the telepathic drill in. He and Vader would need to fight at only a fraction of their potential.

Leaping from the top steps, Vader crashed into the grouped men, lightsaber slashing and whirling. Kinnison pulled his saber and struck and parried, Kirk doing the same. Atop the steps, Palpatine's rage grew, and as it grew, Kinnison's powerful telepathic attack diminished.

The Dark Side fed on fear, anger, hate.

Following his pupil, Palpatine sailed through the air and landed beside Kinnison, a quick series of hacks and stabs pushing the Lensman away from Vader and towards the elevator. In the opening few seconds, three Royal Guards were dead, the remaining three operating their vibroblades to try and thwart the Sith.

Vader swatted Kirk away with his saber, and like an errant fly, the captain went tumbling to the ground, his saber skidding along the polished surface.

"You have no hope here Captain, it was a mistake for you to come," grumbled the dark lord. Regaining his footing and weapon, the captain twirled his yellow saber around before striking. Blades clashed and Kirk found himself face to face with the armored mask. A small vaporized piece was missing, and inside Kirk could see pale white skin.

"Your… son..." straining to get every word in, the captain pushed as hard as he could to hold his ground, the red saber a few inches from his face. "...told me all about you. He said you were a good man."

For a moment, the world stopped. Vader's vision was already blurred from the telepathic attack, but now his mind froze.

 _Luke… my son._ His death had sent a shockwave through the Force. Vader had been in his chambers at the time, and the sudden realization had made him queasy; sending him back to Mustafar long ago when Padme had been injured. Then later, when it had been revealed she passed away; he felt rage, guilt, and remorse.

"Do. You. Feel it? Do you feel this? Is this familiar?" Shouted the strained captain, still interlocked with his lightsaber.

 _Something is familiar…_ thought Vader.

Kirk, of a thousand monologues continued, he was the master of reading a room and opponent.

"I know you do. I was told you would." Kirk withdrew then launched forward with an attack, yellow and red sabers connected squarely, they withdrew and clashed again. "You were here Darth! You were here!" Kirk pressed harder, "In another life!"

Vader immediately knew what he was talking about.

 _Luke… my son must have told him. But-_ The next thought caused him to grimace under the helmet, _... he is gone now…_ Vader slashed and thrust forward, watching the comedic overacting of Kirk as he dodged, surged and withdrew.

Across the room, Kinnison pounded the Emperor with every iota of telepathic energy; the drill desperately trying to penetrate the growing power of the Force shield. Due to the tremendous onslaught of mental energy, the Emperor and Vader were fighting at only twenty-percent, the rest of their efforts went to stopping the blistering attack. But unlike Kinnison's telepathic power which was capped, the Force had no such limit. A daring slice and slash brought Kinnison and the Emperor eye to eye, their blades sizzling and throbbing. Kinnison was screaming, his collective power stopping the Emperor from cutting him in half. He felt he was on edge, dancing on a ledge a hundred stories up.

But he would not give.

His back leg pressed, and he soon felt himself moving forward, the old man giving some ground. The Emperor saw into the eagle-like eyes of the Lensman, and he knew what all others learned when facing him. He would not quit. He would not give. He would not yield.

Ever.

Palpatine snarled,

"Fool!" he withdrew his saber and slashed quickly to the right then left. Kinnison back peddled at the quick series of attacks before ducking just as the elevator doors opened. Four stormtroopers stood with their weapons drawn. The Emperor hacked the first down before the three others could open fire. Kinnison joined in and managed to burn a small hole in the shadowy cloak.

Kinnison commanded one of the troopers to take a shot at Vader who was preoccupied with Kirk. The bolt flew through the air but did not strike its intended target. Disengaging from Kirk, Vader whirled around and sent the round back towards the trooper, blowing a hole in the chest and putting a stop to the failed attack.

Kinnison pressed on, trying to shove his saber through the spinning and whirling red blur, each attack blocked, every counter-attack parried. Sabers connected again, only this time a small crackle of electricity ran through the eyes of the Emperor.

 _Time is running out. His power is growing…_

Palpatine finished off the last stormtrooper before turning back towards Kinnison. His demeanor different than it had been before. Hatred and anger boiled and frothed, bringing more power each minute. Soon he would be able to unleash his lightning without sacrificing his protective shield.

"Do you really think you and your friend can defeat us?" Rushing forward, Palpatine nearly decapitated Kimball if it were not for the power of perception, allowing the Lensman to pivot just in time. "You are nothing to us. We, who have ruled the galaxy for twenty years. We! Who destroyed the Jedi." Their sabers connected, Kinnison found himself backing away as the intensity of attack ramped up.

UP

DOWN

SIDEWAYS

SIDE TO SIDE

All manner of saber attack came forward, each barely deflected. Kinnison felt it. He was losing.

Thirty feet away, Kirk stood toe-to-toe with the Dark Lord, his face trembling in concentrated effort. They were locked together near the walkway leading towards the bottomless pit of the Throne Room when he noticed his friend back peddling away from the Emperor. _Kim!_ Kirk knew he needed to do something, anything to end the fight. Vader shoved him off and took a big swing, only for his lightsaber to continue past the point in which he anticipated making contact with the yellow saber. Kirk had switched off his blade just before contact, causing Vader to keep spinning. Coming back across Vader, Kirk reignited his saber and struck the shoulder armor of the dark lord. Sparks burst into the air and Vader roared in anger.

Their sabers met again,

"You killed him Darth! You. Killed. Him!" The words struck harder than any lightsaber, and for just a moment, Vader's resolve fluttered. "You. Are. Responsible." Another series of hacks and connections before the two opponents came face to face. "Your endless war. Your endless bloodshed. He had no choice. He had no choice Darth!"

Vader pushed Kirk off and grumbled,

"It was destiny,"

Kirk's sweaty and bloody face was now only inches from the solid black mask, his tense expression unyielding.

"He. Died. To. Save. You." Each disjointed and paused word carrying with it all the captain's emotion and strength. The red saber was inching closer to his neck, he could no longer hold back the mechanical arms and pistons of the Dark Lord. "Luke...told me what you told him. The Emperor has lied to you."

As Vader pushed further towards the Captain's throat, he felt a sudden and unmistakable sense of fear. But not from the captain. For a moment, a nervous flutter overcame the Emperor who heard the ongoing conversation.

"Darth. This is all just a test. A… test set by something called a Q."

Now Vader could feel the unmistakable sense of concern, of the truth being revealed. His master had lied to him. Attacking again, Vader grabbed Kirk's wrist and began the slow twist inward, the yellow lightsaber moving slowly towards Kirk's stomach. Shaking, sweating, bleeding, Kirk fought with everything he could muster.

 _This will not be won by the physical._ Then the feared radio transmission came through the loudspeaker of the throne room.

" **Deathstar will be in range in two minutes,"**

 _No! This must end!_

"Do you know-" the saber now began to heat the fibers of his tattered uniform, "...do you know what your son said to me? Anakin. He said there was still good in you! He died for nothing Darth! Nothing!"

Kinnison, listening intently, knew it was all or nothing now. He spun hard and came down with his saber and released his telepathic drill. Instantly Palpatine dropped his saber and blasted Kinnison with the full onslaught of the dark side. Blue lightning exploded outward and tossed the Lensman down the stairs to the hard floor. Unrelenting the electricity poured outward and the Lensman's body sparked and hissed.

But that was only the outside.

Kinnison's mind, disconnected from the pain of his body released the good, the true, the virtue into Vader. Past the Force screen, as he had done before, memories and images flooded into the dark lord. Everything Kinnison and Kirk had felt, seen, and heard aboard the Enterprise and Luke's last moment. As crystal clear as if he had been there, Vader saw his son flying towards the Super Star Destroyer. More than that, he felt through the Force the good in him, the true unfettered wholesomeness of the act. The Force spoke to Darth Vader, enlightening him of a vision a year ago. _Yoda had been right._ When it was Luke's turn to pass, a Jedi he would be.

In his mind, Luke's voice was clear as day, telling Kirk that there was still good in him. Of all the terrible things Vader had done, his son believed in him.

 _We cannot change our destiny…_

Vader disengaged from Kirk and slowly turned towards the Emperor.

Palpatine unleashed a final torrent of lightning into the shriveling and burnt body of the Lensman before stopping to face his apprentice. The old man knew. The moment he had feared, the return of Anakin Skywalker.

The heavy clump of boots came forward.

"The end of a long road, one we have been on for too long."

"So be it... Jedi."

Palpatine lifted his arms and unloaded everything he had, all the rage, anger and frustration of this betrayal. Vader raised his saber and hand to absorb the attack. White lightning poured over him and down his cape like water, electricity arced out into all directions as the intensity grew far beyond any Force lighting before it. Palpatine yelled in rage as a shockwave exited his hands and increased the output ten-fold. But Vader continued, one painful step at a time.

Laying on the ground, Kinnison's deaf and blind body was shutting down. With only a fraction of consciousness remaining, he sent his mind into Kirk's. He shared with him all the things needed for his future life. Everything he knew about Arisia, the Galactic Patrol and all manner of things he knew regarding Boskone. He had shared all this before, but now with much more finesse and detail. He shared his entire life, his passions, his interests, essentially...

He shared his soul.

Kimball's thoughts were fleeting, fading away into the darkness.

With the last of his will, he pushed Kirk's subconscious mind to new levels, pressing outward the rules at which any human thought was governed. A blank canvas in which the captain in time would grow to use. With the last of his mental energy, Kimball sent one last message to James, one he had not been able to say before, until now.

 _So long my friend, you are the greatest Lensman I have ever met. Grow, in only a method you will know. Goodbye._

Kirk's attention shifted at the incoming thought-wave and quickly looked at his friend's body,

"No…" he whispered.

Kimball Kinnison was dead.


	43. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Threats Big and Small

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Kronos**

Q stood in the windswept landscape of Kronos, his ancient outfit flapping and tugging in the breeze.

"Where have you been my brothers? We have looked for you for so long."

The Gravemind groaned and pulsated before lowering itself towards the ground. It had longed for this moment, to be reunited with the ascended ones.

"Beyond the gate, where all others meet."

Q scoffed, for a year the minds of little men and women scurrying about spoke of such a place. His kind had once believed in it, _when we were mortal…_

"Take me there, show me,"

Moving into the consciousness of the Precursor, Q stood in the dark room with fog churning about his feet. He looked down disinterested before walking through the wall and into the other room,

The same room

The same fog

He eyed it suspiciously before merging down into the floor and coming out of the ceiling on another level.

The same room

The same fog

Smirking, Q studied the walls and door before reaching down and scooping up fog into his hand. He watched as it wormed its way through his fingers and down his wrist. _My my, what strange places your mind has been, what have you become…_ Expanding his aura, Q now stood a giant, holding the small interconnecting rooms in the palm of his hand. Looking down, he shed a small smile. _Your minds have deformed, mutated. I don't see progress of-_

The god-being suddenly looked about. He was standing in another room, identical to the ones he held in his hands. In all directions he saw rooms, and doors, with more doors and more rooms; an endless labyrinth, with fog snaking every which way.

"Brother, show me the gate, show me where you have been."

The rooms disappeared, and now the insectoid Precursor occupied the same space as the Q.

"You are standing before it, see." It raised one of its distended hands and gestured to its left. Its many eyes admiring the invisible object. Q shifted his gaze between the Precursor and the empty space. Taking a few steps forward, he felt with his hand,

Nothing.

"There is no such gate,"

"You must believe. Past the gate, lays another. An ultimate gate where we cannot return."

Q's first reaction would typically be laughter and amusement, but this was his brother; the original ones like he. _Could they have gone insane?_ He tried to sense an outline of the gate, some sort of indication of its presence. Moving his hand gently through the darkness, he felt for a framework, a sign.

Nothing.

The Precursor admired it's invisible gate, looking at it with admiration. As it did, it shared its thoughts.

"You test life. You test our creations. But you do not see all life. Some, move in strange places. Some are not life. But it thinks. It waits. Yog-Sothoth is-"

"-the key and guardian of the gate," interrupted Q, now letting himself remember the old tales. By closing his eyes, memories not accessed for billions of years came rushing forward. He heard them again, calling, murmuring in his dreams. He then thought to the Continuum, the strange movement of shadows along the floor. "They are coming… aren't they?"

"They wait, potent, and ready."

Darker than any absence of light, Q's eye began to see something even in the pitch-black state of the Precursor consciousness, a material _something_ , a doorway. Q's eyes flickered, representative of his shocked and utterly flabbergasted realization. _It is true...there is a gate..._ He took a step forward, he felt a slight breeze coming from the gateway, the doorway to another realm.

The Precursor stood beside him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder,

"This is what you failed to believe, where our minds meet. The first gate."

Q refocused on the doorway, he noted beyond the strange opening, bits of light-strands floated about, moving sometimes together and sometimes apart. He smiled.

"You. That is you… I recognize you." Reaching the threshold, he placed his hands on either side, careful not to fall 'in.' He looked about, a dazzling display of energy and souls wisped and danced. "What is that?" he asked, pointing to a strange pulsating stream of odd colored light.

"To beyond, where none can return. Past the first, past the Ultimate Gate. At the center of all things."

Q focused on the dull light, concentrating his considerable energies on its substance and intent. Soon the incandescence began to swirl gently, then faster, turning into a maelstrom that started to expand and open. As the vortex opened, Q thought he heard something. _Is that... a flute?..._

The Precursor grabbed Q and spun him around, it's face inches from his.

"Do not turn. Do not look."

Q could not believe what he heard, how preposterous was it he could not look at something? _I am omnipotent!_ But the Precursor squeezed his shoulder, conveying the fear and seriousness of its claim.

"It is the ultimate one, the nuclear chaos at the center of-"

Q shoved the Precursor aside and spun around, his age-old arrogance asserting itself once again. As his body turned, his ability to believe vanished and instead of a gate or maelstrom, only emptiness.

The gate was gone.

"What were you blabbering about?" asked the Q hotly as he examined the darkness.

"At the center of all infinity. Energy, space, time, matter, dimen-"

"Stop," interrupted the Q, raising his finger as if silencing a child. "Those things do not converge into a single point. Just consider your own words. Infinity has no end, therefore no center. I am a Q remember? Not some simpleton mortal whom you created. I am a god among those we share as pets. I have been everywhere, to the beginning of the big bang to the very end."

"We are in great danger. You must stop the test and destroy the Dalek's."

"The test must complete organically, we cannot interfere."

"You already have Q, your promise to the Emperor…"

Q examined every minutia of detail that he could access inside the creature's head. _You were looking inside my head as I have been looking inside yours…_

Continuing, the Precursor's voice changed from passive to menacing,

"Reset all before it is too late,"

Exiting into the real world, Q looked up at the worm from the dusty ground, the images from the gate fresh in his mind.

"I made that promise because the Empire is our tool for testing, and if the Earth is destroyed the test is complete. We allow the parties to claim life, unlike you. When you judge, you kill on your own."

"We are nearly out of time. Go now, and see before all is lost,"

As the words were spoken, a shadow crept across the landscape, plunging the planet into darkness. The Gravemind tilted its head higher to view the sun's obstruction. Like an eclipse, something blocked the sunlight, growing larger by the second.

"Brother, act now before it is too late for all,"

Q looked up and saw what it was, his mind in a thousand places at once.

Onboard the Deathstar.

In the Continuum.

Inside the Dalek base.

 _We are in danger_

Traveling at superluminal speed, a planet-sized ball of anti-energy and matter smacked into Kronos and obliterated it. When one part matter meets one part antimatter, the results are invariably disastrous. Seas and continents dissolved and blasted outward as nothing but radiation into the solar system. In less than a second, the entire planet was gone. An Eddorian Negasphere had collided with the Klingon Homeworld.

The attack had begun.

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dalek Base**

The Dalek's defended themselves magnificently, their minds and intelligent machines adapting and retaliating ferociously. Quantum Singularities burst open and swallowed ships whole, while other exotic weapons pulled apart the molecules of the Flood one electron at a time. Saucers kept hidden within the black hole's operations facilities now entered the battle, unloading bizarre energies into the Star Roads.

Inside, the Supreme Dalek called out another order to focus their defensive efforts on thwarting the ever-changing Star Roads. As it shrieked another command, a flash of light appeared on the busy communications floor.

Q stood with his arms crossed, wearing his Starfleet Captain's uniform. He bore no smile, no smirk. All at once, every Dalek stopped in its place and swung its eye stock towards the god-being.

Silence. Only the beeping and blipping of terminals filled the space.

"Daleks!" Shouted Q triumphantly, "I am the-"

The Supreme Dalek erupted,

"WE KNOW WHO YOU AAAAAAAARREEE."

Q's mind jumped into the Supreme Dalek, and in an instant, he knew a terrible truth. The new piece of equipment for the superweapon would work, somehow they had constructed it without the Continuum's knowledge.

 _No wait...they received it from… it must have been built on that planet with the mindscreen…_

The speed at which these revelations came is not measurable. No sooner had the Q appeared was the absolute truth understood. Conjuring all his power, Q raised his hand to annihilate everything at once, to reset the clock and end the test. As his hand rose and his fingers aligned themselves to snap, the Dalek's threw the switch.

Never in the history of all history had the Q, all and everywhere, felt such pain. The Superweapon stabbed into the conscious waves that the god-beings made-up. Q's fingers missed the snap by a millimeter, instead, rushing to the sides of his head and holding his temples as he swayed back and forth. Screams, not like those of regular humans engulfed the entire base. Pain almost material dove like a hot knife into the Q's brain.

"You. Will. DIIIEEEEEEEE!" Screamed the Supreme Dalek. "Keep the weapon at FULLLLLL power and slave to the Battle Computer!"

Q's eyes were ready to burst, he stumbled from one side of the floor to the other, his fingers fading in and out of view as he desperately tried to snap and atomize everything within his range.

But he could not. His powers and mind were being attacked, expertly targeted by the Dalek's precise knowledge of the god-beings. A flash of light signaled the retreat of the Q into the Continuum,

"Once the Continuum is exterminated, reset superweapon for real space targeting. We are to mind-wipe the Milky Way and beyond! I will coordinate the final attack upon the Q."

The Supreme quickly exited the command bridge and made its way to the terrible room. Upon entry, the hanging blob of chains rattled and slurped.

 **It is time**

"We have upheld our end of the plan, your end MUST be upheld! The Q will not retreat forever."

 **We are ready**

"If you fail. If you are defeat-"

 **WE HAVE NO PEER, NO EQUAL. WE ARE EVERYWHERE, WILL ALWAYS BE, HAVE ALWAYS BEEN. WE WILL RETURN WHEN THE WORDS ARE SPOKEN BY THE ONE WHO TRULY BELIEVES. WE. ARE. FOREVER.**

Outside, encircling the entire battle, nine-hundred-THOUSAND hyperspace tubes erupted into real space. From the tubes came millions of ships from millions of worlds, each fighting for their own individual reasons. Behind the fleets, thousands of lifeless planets and negasphere's exited their tubes and smacked into the Star Roads at breathtaking velocity.

Planets and universal ether collided, with rubble from the smallest grains to the largest mountains free-floating throughout.

From far off, the minds of mighty Eddore made their entry. Crossing the universe as fast as thought may travel, all Eddorians, including the All-Highest and his Inner Circle fused together and drove into the Dalek's. Past their rudimentary thought-screens, the third-level intellect of the Eddorians blasted them to oblivion. Before a second passed, no Dalek remained alive. Dead, their minds obliterated.

Moving to their next target, the fused might of Eddore connected into the Flood's collective consciousness and went to work to untangle the web of Precursor thought. All across the galaxy, planets met the same fate as Kronos as Negasphere's smashed into infected worlds by the tens of thousands.

The eradication of the Flood had commenced.

But not just the Flood, the Boskone forces also bombarded the Dalek base.

In the space surrounding the black hole, the automated defense weapons of the Dalek Battle Computer continued; its weapon systems affected but not disabled by the death of its masters. Planets erupted from the onslaught of D-mat guns and the Probability Cannon, but the attack continued. Debris clouds millions of kilometers in diameter lit up like electrified nebula as the three warring sides waged their first, only, and last war.

Bergenholm drives, otherwise known as inertialess drives, propelled Boskone planets, ships, and colossal installations through space. In taking away inertia, the ships could move at almost limitless speed, worlds included. Any object strapped with an Inertialess Drive could be held in place with a human hair. Likewise, no projectile or beam of energy could harm them, merely pushing the target out of the way like a leaf blower.

Planets unable to connect with their targets, found themselves ensnared by the Star Roads and cut to pieces. Like giant Anacondas, tendrils of universal ether sliced and diced, carved and captured. Unable to harm an Inertialess Drive vessel or planet without first stopping its motion entirely and holding it tight, this was the only tactic that seemed to work.

But as the war continued, the Flood were losing ground and control.

The fused minds of Eddore flushed out the consciousness to the mutated plague bodies which lay limp in their ships.

"The plague mind cannot withstand us, continue our assault. It falters." The fused minds of Eddore continued to attack, but as they did, the awareness of something watching them grew. As if behind a plain glass of reality, eyes watched. The minds of Eddore, with a scope and vision universes old, felt a presence.

Older.

Stranger.

Terrible.

Deadly.

 **PAIN WILL SET US FREE**

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Deathstar**

Electricity arced from the Emperor's fingertips and wrapped itself around Vader's lightsaber. Cascading down to the floor and then up again, crawling along the dark lord's black boots and cape. Vader's lightsaber was out ahead of him, his other hand blocking the tremendous incoming energy.

"How dare you turn against me!" shouted the Emperor mid-blast. Revved up to a feverish pitch, lightning now sparked out of his eyes as well as his hands. Vader strained under the onslaught, with each step getting slower and slower. With only ten feet separating the two, Kirk tried to squint through his fingers and into the blinding flashes of light.

His attention shifted between Kinnison's still body and Vader's massive black frame moving slowly towards the source of the incredible lightning flows. He noted the steps were slowing, until they finally stopped, unable to continue.

Another shockwave rippled out and pushed Vader back a few feet, his boots sliding along the polished floor.

"You cannot win Emperor!" Shouted Kirk over the noise, standing tall, defiant. "Your campaign is over. Luke…" the captain looked down at his hand, blood flowed over his thumb and onto the handle of his lightsaber. "...he… will not die in vain." Raising the lightsaber, then igniting it, his eyes locked onto the shining yellow blade.

 _What is my own destiny?_

A thousand yard stare exhibited all that he felt,

 _You are going to pay for Kinnison and Luke, you are going to pay._

Kirk rushed forward, but before taking two steps was flung backward by a quick gesture of the Emperor.

Vader capitalized on the opening and took a few steps forward, his boots moving as if walking through liquid cement. Another step, then another. Inside Anakin's head, he saw only the end of a long road. He needed to reach Palpatine. He needed revenge. Pushing past his own Force shield, he edged forward, absorbing even more dark energy as he closed the distance, his efforts renewed.

 _No., not revenge._ Seeing clearly for the first time, he wanted to right a wrong. It was not about him. _No pity, no self-loathing._ Another step, then another.

Only a foot separated them. The Emperor had backed himself against the rail of the pit, unloading everything he could muster.

Across the walkway, Kirk shook his head as he slowly pulled himself off the floor. His lightsaber was gone, rattling down the bottomless pit on his side of the walkway. If one were to view him now, his eyes would be highlighted by the sparkling energy, with the overhead beams plunging the rest of his face into shadow.

Then he felt it.

The serum.

Moving out of the Emperor's line of sight and behind the dark lord, Kirk raised his hand out in front of him; telekinetic power birthed, only in infancy, but growing stronger. He pressed the power against Vader's back and inched him forward along the floor. Inch by precarious inch the dark lord moved, the Emperor's eyes bulging in disbelief and strain of will.

"No Anakin! No!" Palpatine felt that if he could just hold on a minute longer, that his agreement with the Q would come into full effect. That all would be reset. He would be victorious. _I will have my Empire again!_

Vader's black glove crossed the threshold of Force barrier and immediately absorbed the full onslaught of lightning. Kirk could not tell if white light shone through the cracks in Vader's mask or if it was just his imagination, but the gloved hand continued forward.

Kirk closed his eyes and willed Vader onward,

 _Come on Darth! Come on!_

Screaming at the top of his lungs, the tremendous stress broke Kirk down, but in the noise, yelling, and pressure, he heard a mechanical voice in his head,

 _Captain Kirk, the Force is strong with you,_

Vader's black glove closed around the old man's neck and began to hoist him upward, lightning continued to pour outward, blasting and crackling

But it was of no use.

"I have you now," rumbled the dark lord, before plunging his saber into the Emperor's chest.

The lifeless body of Palpatine collapsed to the ground. After decades of rule and treachery, it was over.

Turning away from the dead body, the lightheaded and wheezing Vader deactivated his saber and looked at the captain. Neither said a word, both exhausted, not wanting to fight or even speak.

But the mission was not over.

"Vader… you have got to stop the firing of his battle station."

Using his Force power, the communications station flicked on and word was sent down to the control room to stand down. With only forty-seconds to spare, Kirk nearly collapsed in relief before rushing over to Kinnison and kneeling down beside his body.

"Kim...Kim!" he shouted, slapping the burnt face in the hopes of waking him. He shouted again, shaking his friend violently, desperately. "Kim!" After more than a minute, he lowered his head and sat on the floor beside the Lensman. Vader stood nearby, looking down at the man who had helped defeat his master.

"Captain Kirk, the Force flows through you,"

Kirk shook his head and patted his thigh where he had injected the serum,

"No, it was a chemical, injected before I beamed over."

"Only if you believe it" replied the Dark Lord, unconvinced.

Kirk's eyes moved upward and locked eyes with the armored helmet.

"Yes, just telekinetic power…" but Vader did not reply, instead turning and making his way back up the stairs towards the throne. His throne.

"You are free to leave captain. Leave your friend, and retrieve him later."

Kirk placed his hand on Kinnison's lifeless shoulder and smiled, he did not want to leave him. But knew that this might be a one-way trip,

"I will return for him. He… was a good man."

Vader collapsed into the throne, his wheezing growing worse, the respirator damaged under the onslaught.

"I know."

Kirk nodded without saying a word. He took one last look at Kim before pulling his communicator, _I must get to Cienna..._

"Han, take me to the Galactic core."


	44. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

True Fear

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dauntless**

Laying face down on the cold steel, Cienna's vision blurred and ears rang under the tremendous pain. Her ribs were broken and pressed inward, her internal organs hemorrhaging and with Maul's latest attack, her hip displaced.

She had dropped one of two phasers, her shaky and swollen hand clutching the last one for dear life. Raising her head off the floor, she pulled herself forward, using the uneven plating and floor contours as grip. Behind her, she could hear the throbbing power of Maul's double lightsaber.

"Did you really think you could oppose me…" he sneered from behind, though Cienna could not tell how far. "I can sense fear in you, so sweet, so… pathetic."

Ahead - the small tunnel towards the cockpit, behind her - another heading into the back of the ship. They were inside the large chemical room for weapons and other materials, the lights flickered, and the red saber painted the walls a crimson red. She crawled forward, her singed hair from Data's near miss caked to her skull, sweat poured out of her body and shock prepared to set in.

"I have killed so many, you will be just another." Raising his hand, Maul concentrated on her ankle and began to squeeze with the Force. Cienna arched back and screamed, the pain overwhelming her senses.

Pain and tears.

Maul released after a loud pop, the joint was now dislocated.

"How frail… your friends cannot help you. Those, from Earth, are far from here," he swiped his saber across the floor and sparks flew, he could sense her fear. He felt her pain, and he loved it. He could kill her with a gesture, and he smiled and relished at the thought.

Cienna gripped a grate on the floor and pulled herself forward again, her eyes searching the room. _My only chance…_ She held her breath and closed her eyes, rolling tears mixing with blood and sweat. She thought of Jim, her love. _If only he were here…_ Bracing herself, she pulled the phaser close and tilted it sideways towards a large barrel of chemicals forty feet away.

Air moved slowly through her punctured lungs, and her mind raced as she fought to breathe. _The pain! The pain!_ Hallucination took hold, Kirk stood in front of her smiling. _He smells so lovely,_ she embraced him, loved him. His familiar smell and touch taking her back to the Enterprise. Familiarity and safety. As she pulled her head away from the crevice of his neck, Kirk's face began to change, hardening, morphing into another.

 _John…_

The Hallucination disappeared. More tears came as she prepared herself, readying for the last effort she may ever make.

 _Someone help me! Please help me!_ The last image seemed so real to her, her body began to tremble and shiver, shock was setting in. _John…_

Refocusing, she knew the Dauntless was getting close to the point of no return, as close as possible to the black hole. She needed to act. Taking one last look to her left, she held her breath,

 _One…_

 _Two…_

 _Three…_

Aiming for the chemical barrel, she fired her phaser. It burst like napalm, spilling its contents onto the ground as Cienna rolled to her back and fired a sweeping beam along the wall and across the Sith. Maul braced himself and twirled his lightsaber to absorb the fire, but could do nothing of the damage caused to his surroundings.

Along the floor, liquid fire spilled outward and gushed towards both of them.

Maul dove into the tunnel towards the back of the ship as the barrel beside him exploded in white-hot fire. Cienna screamed in pain as she hauled herself to her feet and staggered forward, her hip snapping and grinding as she hobbled towards the cockpit.

 _The pain!_

 _The pain!_

 _Help me!_

 _Help me!_

The back of her dress was smoking and tattered from the burning fires near miss, skin bubbled, and third-degree burns covered her slender neck and shoulders. Gritting her teeth, she fumbled her way around the command chair and collapsed into it.

 _It hurts, it hurts! Oh my god!_

Looking up, she held her breath and reached upward towards the virtual console. Pain from her broken ribs sucked the air out of her lungs, and she nearly missed the handle as she fumbled with her swollen fingers. Pulling the viewing screens down in front of her face, she saw the automated fire systems starting to come online. She had to stop them. The fire was the only thing keeping Maul out of the cockpit. Deactivating the fire suppression systems, she then looked at the scope, Slave I was flying behind them.

 _You die with me you son of a bitch,_

With a quick command, it exploded into a million pieces from a quick blast of the rear phaser array.

[[Time to Target : 00:00:57]]

Less than a minute remained until they were in optimum firing range, but as her eyes shifted towards the weapons display, her heart sank.

==Offline==

Cienna's head rested against the back of the chair, everything was blurry, she strained to keep focus. Blood spilled out of her nostrils and mouth, her eyes feeling as heavy as drawbridges.

 _Spock… you must arm the weapon..._

In the rear of the Dauntless, Boba Fett headbutted Spock with his helmet in an attempt to free the lightsaber or blaster from either hand. The Mandalorian armor connected squarely with Spock's nose, bursting its green blood contents in all directions. Boba was on top of Spock, mounting him, but unable to move. Similar to a mixed-martial-artist, Spock had his legs wrapped around the bounty hunter and was still overpowering him despite the two blaster wounds.

Boba strained and groaned, his muscles no match for the super strength of his opponent, he headbutted him again,

Then again.

Then again.

Spock's hand released the blaster and Boba immediately capitalized, trying to turn it around at an awkward angle to take a fatal shot. Squirming beneath, the gun rattled away and now both men had their hands on the lightsaber. It sparked and dug into the floor, then whirled around as Spock wrestled Boba to his side. Both men faced each other on the ground as the blue saber throbbed above them.

 _Approximately forty seconds remaining… the weapon must be primed…_ noted the Vulcan, his impressive brain able to fight and countdown simultaneously.

Across the room, two large levers attached to the wall needed to be activated, one pulled down, the other pushed upward. As the Vulcan counted down the time in his head, Boba took advantage, pressing his elbow into the gaping chest wound. Spock screamed and gritted his teeth. His face shook to contain the spasms of pain shock waves overwhelming his nervous system.

 _Thirty… seconds…_

Releasing one hand from the saber, he wrapped it around the torso of Boba Fett, both men now pressed against each other in a deadly embrace. Boba fought hard to pull away, unsure of the tactic. Slowly, Spock began to pull Boba upward with him, his superior strength hoisting the bounty hunter off the floor.

Now, with everything he had left, Spock, blood-drenched and gasping for air, moved towards the first lever, Boba fighting him every inch of the way. The saber deactivated from a clumsy thumb but was still fought after as if ignited. The slightest misstep would bring disaster to the other.

Four feet

Boba landed a savage knee to the stomach, but by raising one leg, he lost ground,

Three feet.

Another savage knee, this time Spock keeled forward and almost lost grip of the saber, it bobbled between their hands before he regained a solid grip.

Two feet.

With a herculean push, Boba's back smacked into the wall, allowing Spock to pull the first lever with a free hand. A loud hiss and whirl of energy rang out.

 _Twenty seconds…_

Lactic acid grew in each man's arms and legs, they had been pushing and struggling for several minutes. Grip and actions once concentrated and firm were now sloppy and loose.

Inside Boba's helmet, his earpiece came to life, it was Maul, far ahead in the Dauntless calling for his help.

"Boba, get up here, now! Make sure the weapon system is deactivated!"

Spock's head snapped to the side to face the bounty hunter, his sensitive ears hearing the transmission. Now the struggle intensified, Fett, realizing that the pointy ears must have been super sensitive to noise. His eyes inside the helmet scanned the face of his adversary, then his arm and wounds. He didn't believe he could gain control of the lightsaber, but the blaster laying across the floor was a possibility. His back scrapped along the wall towards the final lever, but he allowed it. He was preparing himself, timing an escape.

Just as Spock's arm reached out to gain control of the priming lever, Boba headbutted him again. The impact allowed Fett to duck under the outstretched arm of Spock. He rushed towards the blaster rifle.

Spock pushed the lever upward, snapping it into place. Turbines whirled to life behind the heavily shielded particle chamber as the Magnetic Corridor Weapon came alive.

Not missing a beat, the Vulcan rushed towards Boba, igniting the lightsaber with every intention of stabbing him.

Boba reached the rifle and spun around.

He fired.

The bolt struck Spock's chest and green blood splattered out his back, he collided into Boba, dropping the lightsaber in the process.

His vision was failing.

His hearing was failing.

His body felt cold and unresponsive.

But logic continued; his mind coming to its final conclusion. _Boba could not be allowed to deactivate the weapon or move towards Cienna._ With his last ounce of strength he reached for the saber and ignited it, Boba twisted sideways and grabbed ahold, preventing it from turning inward towards himself.

But that was not the plan.

The blaster rifle lay just beside the buzzing saber, its energy cell full. With Boba on his back and unable to apply the proper leverage, Spock began to push the lightsaber down towards the fuel cell.

Boba's eyes widened,

"No!" He shouted under his mask, his intensity reached a feverish level, but no amount of effort would prevail. Slowly the blue blade lowered, inches from the rifle. "Vulcan! Stop! It will explode! You will kill us both!"

Spock heaved his body onto Boba's arm, securing the proper position, he watched as the blade moved downward, Boba began flailing and punching, and as he did, Spock turned his head towards the armored helmet,

"The needs of the many-"

The lightsaber touched the fuel cell and it exploded with a tremendous blast, ripping apart terminals and men.

Spock and Boba Fett were dead. But the sacrifice was not in vain. The heavily shielded MCW remained intact, unscathed in the explosion. Spock had known this, calculating the shockwave in his mind before triggering the fuel cell.

In the front of the Dauntless, the cockpit shook and rattled as the ship rocketed through debris clouds the size of planets and swept in and around Star Roads and other massive objects. Cienna shook her head to stay awake, she had heard the blast from engineering, the internal cameras were offline. _Spock, you did it..._

==ONLINE==

On her display, the tight vector corridor tilted downward, out and below a significant engagement of Star Roads and Inertialess planets. Pitching down, the Dauntless exited a massive debris cloud and was now skimming under. Looking up, Cienna saw the blur of flashing explosions and antimatter exchanges of fire.

[[Time to Target - 00:00:05]]

Exhaustion, justice, relief, all flowed through her veins as she counted down the seconds. Revenge crossed her scattered mind, but faded as quickly as it came; an alert flashed across her screen. An enemy ship had locked onto the Dauntless and was coming down from the debris cloud just behind them. Her eyes flickered, and she squinted to focus.

 _No… no… no! It can't be!_

On her screen, diving downward in hot pursuit came the mirror-Enterprise.

Cienna began yelling at her monitor, broken ribs and blistering pain forgotten in rage.

"No!"

She would never forget the destruction of San Francisco, helping assist with bodies and directing children find their missing parents, or worse, the opposite. But what scared her the most was knowing the capability and cunning of its captain. One she knew all too well. She screamed again before grabbing the joystick and taking the ship off autopilot.

The pain was back now. While concentrating on piloting, the broken ribs, ankle and hip seeped back.

The Dauntless banked right, narrowly missing a dissolving planet, then back again, across the whirling tentacles of Star Road and then twisting up back towards the roaring battle. Cienna kept a close watch on the rear sensor, mirror-Enterprise was gaining. It smashed through ships and chunks of free-floating hulls and rocks scattered in the high-pitched space dogfight.

Realizing she was going to run out of time, her other hand gripped the MCW lever and began priming it. Unlike the test firing where the beam shot out, she adjusted the firing mechanism to keep the beam charging in the reactor as she could not keep the nose of the Dauntless on any single vector for more than a few seconds. All the rear-facing weapon systems were lashing out, blue, red, and green phasers and disruptors splashing across the mirror-Enterprises upgraded shields. This risked an overload, but she had no other choice. Her right hand pressed forward,

Click…

Click…

Click…

The lever moved through the notches while her other hand managed the joystick and prepared the Dauntless for its attack. Her eye then caught sight of an energy readout on her dash, mirror-Enterprise was charging something.

[[Alert : Energy Detected - 1.32e18 Joules]]

 _What in the world…_

Click…

Click…

Click…

A large ship exploded nearby and sent the Dauntless on a new heading. Sparks burst from a control console along the wall, the alarm klaxon rang loud and she fought to correct course. Behind, the mirror-Enterprise banked and yawed to keep pace, absorbing the incoming fire as it closed the distance.

[[Alert : Energy Building Detected - 1.18e27 Joules]]

Two Flood ships descended from the battle and moved downward, but were engaged by Andorian Dreadnaughts; the Gravemind fought to control its navy, but everything was coming apart at the seams. Boskone and the Dalek Battle Computer were tearing them apart.

[[Alert : Energy Buildup Detected - 1.33e44 Joules]]

Cienna was monitoring a hundred things at once, she noted the Dalek Base was now in range, with the MCW ready in nine seconds. A benefit to the MCW that other weapons lacked was the ability to destroy things no one knew was there. She had raised the possibility of Dalek's hiding bases and ships in the vacinity and knew this would be the best option for wiping them out. Especially a Progenitor Device which was always present. Inside it, pure Dalek DNA which could be harvested and used to regrow the Dalek race. Moving the firing lever into the final notches,

Click…

Click…

Click…

She gritted her teeth as she knew she had run out of time. A new alert flashed across her screen, and she closed her eyes. She felt helpless, as if the road had run out.

 _The Dalek's will escape_. The mirror-Enterprise was firing. _That is enough energy to atomize the Dauntless..._

[[Energy Discharge 1.22e47 Joules]]

A green superlaser bolt conjoined across the bow of the mirror-Federation ship and launched forward, its planet-busting power heading towards its target.

Cienna winced in anticipation.

The bolt missed.

Her eyes shot open, the superlaser sailing past.

A massive explosion ensued and Cienna realized what had happened. The mirror-Enterprise had missed her intentionally, instead, targeting the cloaked Dalek Saucer directly ahead. A tidal wave of relief swept over her, she laughed and cried before coughing and wheezing overtook her. She then had a strange sensation, something was in her head, looking about, prodding, probing. Then a voice, one she knew all too well, the same, but different.

"Fire!"

Cienna heard evil-Kirk in her head, a telepathic signal that caused her heart to jump. It sounded like _her_ own Jim, but more sinister and aggressive.

The mirror-Enterprise roared past and upward into the pitched battle, disappearing into the cloud of debris and expanding gases. Cienna did not know how evil-Kirk knew of her, or why he had saved her, but her uncertainty switched to resolve.

The Dauntless came to a halt in space, the MCW was ready, so too was Cienna. She sat for a moment, looking out at the black hole and enormous accretion disk whirling along the event horizon. In any other situation,

 _It is so pretty..._ _Daleks… you deserve a fate worse than death,_ her eyes shifted to the firing button. She smiled and moved her hand towards it.

A sharp hiss and sickening pop of flesh erupted. Cienna's mouth widened, her eyes bulging in disbelief. She spasmed and croaked. Looking down, her brain could not comprehend what she saw. A red lightsaber was coming out of her stomach, pushed through the back of the chair and through her.

Darth Maul stood behind the chair, his outfit smoking from the dying flames, a sneer crossed his face. He pulled the lightsaber out and attached it to his belt. Walking around the command chair, he looked to see Cienna, seated and holding her stomach in complete shock.

"Pathetic," he pulled her forward and then tossed her to the cold steel ground. She was barely alive, limp, broken. Laying in the fetal position, she looked out ahead, unblinking, in total shock. Maul studied her for a moment before crouching down and whispering menacingly,

"Your trick with the fire, your phasers, your friends. None can save you. The Force is my ally, fear, hate, all are mine. I am their master. You are just a normal person, not special, not unique."

The words barely registered. Cienna thought back to her time on the Enterprise, walking and talking with Jim. She remembered how much fun it was, how warm he made her feel. Her mind gingerly moved between memories, the first time they had met. _At the coffee shop…_ in her dream she smiled. She felt at home. _Safe… protection…_ But now she thought of the attack upon the Enterprise in the Demilitarized Zone, and what had happened inside engineering. Cienna had saved the ship. She had calmed the monster, tamed the beast. Someone else protected her as well, not just James Kirk.

A guardian.

 _John…_ s _ave me…_

Cienna tried to open her eyes, everything was spinning and chaotic. She felt the end, and so with a final effort, she tried again. Her blood covered the floor, smeared and stepped in. She then heard Maul mocking her, but she was elsewhere.

 _We came so far, we came so close_ …

Her deadpan eyes focused on the floor, Maul's boots were right in front of her,

 _John, I need you._

Then she noticed the small area under the command chair, her eyes tried to focus, to concentrate as her body shut down. Shadows played along the walls. They were alive, slithering and expanding, changing in color and shape.

Colors whirled in the corners and crept inward,

Cienna's calls for help and pain had reached the limits of possibility, her soul linked forever with another.

Maul followed Cienna's eyes and stood up and turned around, he was shocked at what he saw. The ground seemed to be moving, shifting, liquefying.

Looking on in amazement, he heard Cienna begin to laugh. He looked down, concern evident across his face. Now the walls seemed to bend inward, Maul placed his hand against the bulkhead to reassure himself, they felt perfectly vertical, his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Maybe.

Darth Maul felt the Force talking to him. Urging him. Begging.

Run.

Cracking and crunching of metal echoed throughout, and sparks of red and purple energy crawled along the floor, and with each second, Cienna's laughter strengthened. She was hysterical, joy and relief all flushing outward. Feeling startled, Maul reached down and pulled at her burnt hair and twisted her limp head upward,

"What is this?!" he shouted, pointing with his finger to the strangeness that was the floor.

But she could no longer feel pain, she no longer cared,

"You're…" she struggled, "...you're going to dieeeeee" the last word coming out as a hiss, a final victory. She lowered her head to the ground and smiled. She knew what was coming.

The Sith could hear his heart in his ears, _something_ started to pull itself out of the floor, not from under it, or from inside the metal, but from _elsewhere,_

From _outside_ the limits of ordinary things.

Maul leaped over the birthing _thing_ , running headlong for the chemical room, looking back over his shoulder as it emerged. Cracking and crunching, slurping and twisting, it materialized and birthed outward.

Maul felt fear for the first time; his ally and tool for so long turning inward.

In the dark cockpit, sounds of writhing tentacles slopped and splashed, slithered and combined. Noise as disgusting and imaginable began to converge into a single point.

Something was walking out of the cockpit, heavy boots stomping forward.

Clunk…

Clunk…

Clunk...

Racing across the smoldering fire, the Sith turned around and ignited his lightsaber in anticipation. His hands shivered, his eyes wild in terror.

Clunk…

Clunk…

Maul's mouth fell open, _How?!_ Standing half in and out of the dark tunnel was a fully armored 'John,' cracking and clunking as he closed and opened his hands into fists, flexing, preparing. As before, a part of the facemask was missing, and within, Maul saw his enemy. The eye moved and slithered, crawled and slathered, _THEY_ were with him. Behind the armored figure, hints of tentacles and horrible images writhed and pulsated. In Maul's head, he felt the Force warning him from all directions; along the walls and floor, shadows moved and surrounded him, stalking him,.

"What are you…" uttered the Sith, doing his best to control his shaky voice.

'John's' head began to rotate back to face the cockpit, he stopped to admire Cienna, _his_ love. Then in a display of horror, 'John's' helmet continued full circle and came to a stop facing Maul. He took a step forward, his body fading and shimmering as it solidified into reality.

Madness

His visible eye bore and flamed, burned and sizzled. Hatred hath no ground compared to what ran through his twisted mind.

Then in a voice produced by organs not of Earth, and a sound not entirely his own,

"Doom"


	45. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Past All Reason

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center**

Reeling and roiling from direct contact with the mighty Eddorians, the Precursor consciousness held on for dear life, desperately trying to maintain control of their forces. While the Gravemind had scope and wisdom, it did not have the experience and evolutionary pressure to fight and survive at a telepathic level.

It was a hammer to an egg.

Taking apart the Flood interconnected consciousness was nearing completion, allowing their lessers to mop up the remains. Overlords of Delgon worked side by side with surviving Melkotians to push the Precursor minds from the remaining plague army. Star Roads dissolved and broke apart as they threw themselves uneventfully against the Boskone fleets. On rare occasions when a Boskone ship was boarded, the crew fought desperately, each remembering why they were there. Some thought of their children, some for power or influence. Whatever the ultimate reason, they fought and died willingly, a testament to the genius of the Boskone system; all managed and dictated by unknown levels of hierarchy and control with absolute authority delegated.

But the fight was not over.

The Eddorian fusion of minds studied their unique problem with earnest. Despite the Dalek's obliteration from telepathic attack, the base continued its remarkable defense. The legendary Battle Computer, one which the Eddorians could not manipulate with their powers, sprayed ghastly amounts of death into the surrounding area. Boskone and Flood ships alike blew apart or vanished at the touch of the Probability Canon.

Moving through space as well as objects, the Eddorians focused on a unique device they had come across during their inspection of the besieged base. A Progenitor Device, holding pure Dalek DNA sat securely in an escape pod. Unable to kill the DNA with their minds, Eddore ordered more weapons to the battle. Countless light years away, in a galaxy that the Federation could never reach in fifty-million lifespans, Sunbeams articulated their bearings and prepared to fire.

A Sunbeam collapses a star into a nova, harnessing the blast and focusing it through a hyperspace tube and fired like a laser. Where it would take billions of years for that light and charged particles to cross the expanse, now the focused energy of the supernovas would come in a few seconds. The exit point of the Sunbeams opened above the Dalek base and poured their ultra-powered streams of energy into the target. The beams of energy far stronger than any Deathstar superlaser curved around the gravity shields and continued on without contact. This twisting of energy and charged particles called for higher levels of power which could not be sustained without the creativity of the Dalek mind. Collapse was not imminent, but the shield could not hold forever, and so the Battle Computer decided on a plan.

Inner workings not hidden from the all-seeing Eddorians caused them to pause. They were not sure if the Sunbeams would defeat the shields in time, but there was another option. One they had discovered upon entering the fray and sweeping the space battle with their consciousness. Not willing to move closer to the oddities they sensed within the Dauntless, they had assigned a 'meager' peon to defend it. Their black lensman had already destroyed a cloaked Dalek Saucer which may have tried to target the Dauntless, they were not sure, and so no risks could be taken.

But that was not all that concerned the Eddorians. The superweapon that dispatched the Q to the Continuum was a success and would work against their own enemies, the Arisians, as well as keep the Q's away from them when the base was eventually destroyed. They knew the Dalek plan to kill the Q, but were skeptical of the merits of the things from the old Earth book. They constructed an identical model on Eddore, and soon it would be ready, for a future war where the outcome is far from known.

Their plan was complex, overlapping, and to any other race, confusing. Even now they spoke to each other in their fusion, careful and precise.

 _Be watchful if the telepathic weapon ceases to operate, we must not be caught beyond our shield if the Q are to return._

 _What of the Dalek plan to release the ones from the Earthly book?_

 _We cannot know, we must be cautious_.

 **Dauntless**

Darth Maul bounced on the balls of his feet while squeezing his double lightsaber as tight as he could. He was pumping himself up, preparing for the onslaught which he knew was coming. Across the large room, where the fires still burned, 'John' stood in the tunnel towards the cockpit, his armor glimmering in the flickering light.

Clunk…

Clunk…

Walking forward, one intimidating step at a time, the soldier ignored the fire,

It could not hurt him.

He ignored the shuddering and stress of the hull as it rocked from explosions outside. Such things were of no concern to him, below him, unimportant. Taking another step, he spoke again, several voices speaking different languages all at once. Ancient Earth, English, and various other dialects long gone, perhaps used before the universe was born.

"Eeeyaaa. Yu-Shubnurath…" the various voices and tones merged into one, his own. "I am going to tear you apart."

'John' heard the Old Ones speaking to him, urging him forward.

 **He is nothing to you**

Like a gun to a track star, the madman rushed forward, his huge frame pounding against the metal grates as he charged headlong like a freight train. A hurricane of fire, barrels, and debris whirled about, total and absolute chaos consumed the room.

 **He is only mortal**

Fire, dim up to this point belched upward and roared across the floor, barrels laying still, flew into the air. Not telekinesis or Force energy moved these items and chemicals, but something else.

Maul back peddled as the first attack came, a massive swing designed to decapitate,

Woosh!

A gust of air blasting Maul as 'John' missed. Another swing, then another; wild with rage and fury, each missing by less than an inch. The double lightsaber connected with the breastplate and sparks burst into the air,

But a truck does not stop when a bug hits the windscreen.

Ducking and scampering to the side, Maul landed another slash to the lower leg,

Useless.

The armor melted and black tar gushed outward, splashing across the floor and oozing into the grate. It combined with lingering shadows which crawled back _INTO_ the armor; everything was alive and moving. Inside the Sith's head, the Force screamed for him to retreat, to run and hide. 'John' corrected course and threw a backhand then turned about and threw a haymaker.

Dodging, whirling, and slashing. Maul felt he was fighting a wild animal, savage and without fear or concern. Something wrapped around his left foot and he jumped backward to untangle himself. He glanced down quickly to see what it was, nothing.

'John' did not stop, tire, or hesitate. Fatigue, hesitation, doubt. None of these concepts or physicalities existed in the strangeness that was him.

Noise not capable of generation from any known thing came from inside the armor, it croaked and slurped, growled and groaned. Gibberish in a thousand voices echoed throughout. Maul felt he was going crazy. Fire leaped off the ground and singed his black cloak. He tore it off and threw it to the ground, continuing to dodge and back peddle; his attacks only sparking and melting pieces of armor, nothing more.

Using the dark side, he lifted a few crates and barrels off the ground and hurled them at 'John' who swatted them out of the air, not registering them as anything more than an annoyance. He tried a Force push, but it seemed useless, any distance gained was quickly closed again.

Backing towards the wall, Maul tried to move to the right and then left, but a fist rocketed inward, and he used his double lightsaber to protect his chest while simultaneously raising a Force barrier to help absorb the impact. The armored hand continued straight through the saber handle and collided with the flimsy ribcage of the mortal. It snapped like a toothpick, and the Sith howled in pain as he flew into the steel wall.

The double lightsaber snapped in half, and he waved one end in the air to try and ward off the soldier. Blood pooled in the Sith's mouth, spilling out as he tried to catch his breath. 'John' bent down and picked up the other saber handle, he ignited the blade and brought it towards his face. The red energy highlighted the dark interior of his mask, his eye followed the saber from handle to tip and then back again. He seemed to study it before fixing his attention on the Sith.

 _Death by lightsaber is too generous, he will suffer._

He squeezed the handle and it exploded into a thousand pieces, he did not need it. _He is going to pay for what he did to Cienna, he is going to pay for her pain._

Maul leaned back against the wall, his ribs shattered and lungs heaving to suck in precious air he so lacked. Fear ran through his veins, he was legitimately terrified. He had faced 'John' before on the hellish moon, but escaped just before his throat was crushed. Now he felt there was nowhere to go, he knew Boba was dead and felt as if Slave 1 was gone.

But fear brought him power.

He could feel power rolling down his arms and towards his fingertips. Concentrating all his mental energy into the next attack, he fed on his own fear and anger. 'John' lunged forward as Maul pushed outward with a shockwave of Force energy, blasting the soldier clear across the room and smashing into the far steel wall.

Maul screamed in anger and frustration. He screamed and yelled, and as pushed with everything he had, he let go of his last mental foothold. Lightning sparked and flowed out of his fingers and across the room. 'John' was held against the wall and the lightning flowed through him, tearing into his armor and arching into the open face mask. At first the surge in power seemed to have no effect, merely a light show, but the plot of the Old Ones vaguely understood now came into play. They knew the future, with time being no constraint to their vision.

What can giveth can taketh away

They refocused their efforts from assistance of 'John' to torture, they ripped into his mind and removed his power. They were ferocious with intent, aligned to their cosmic plan.

'John' reached for either side of his helmet and howled for everything he knew. Lightning flowed into his mouth and down his throat, electrifying his heart and eyes which glowed and sparked as they burnt and smoldered.

Not far away inside the cockpit, Cienna's head rested comfortably on the floor. She could not feel her legs or torso, everything was warm and she felt as if she just needed a long nap. One eye was shut closed, the other barely a slit. Now and then she perceived a battle ongoing in the larger room, but could hardly remember why. Her concentration waned in and out,

 _Why? What is going on… where am I?_

Blue flashes of lightning lit up the small tunnel, and the colors reflected off the bulkhead.

 _Maul… oh my god… that's right… John…_

More lightning flashed along the walls of the cockpit and she thought she could hear screaming,

 _Someone is in pain… is it John? It is. It is him, he needs me._

Close to death, she could no longer move her legs or left arm. _I can still feel my right…_ she slowly maneuvered her right hand forward, her face dragging along the grates as she pulled herself along. Only a moment from total organ shutdown, her vegetable state body crawled or rather inched its way forward. A few more inches and her view would not be obstructed by the wall, _so close_.

A final effort, the last.

Able to gain the strength of will to move onward despite a complete lack of bodily control, her waning thoughts recycled only one idea. She must help 'John.' As her fingers dug into the grates, she felt a force moving her along, it dragged her onward, slinking along with her. _I am losing it..._

Her will and virtue belonged to her, the supreme resolve as well, but the power to move such a wounded body came from elsewhere.

The Old Ones influence connected their multifaceted plan together, joining pieces and conjoining goals to prepare for their freedom.

 **Only a true believer can release us, pain will set us free**

Cienna's good eye now cleared the bulkhead, her hazy thoughts trying to make sense of the chaotic scene. Maul leaned up against the far wall beside the opposite tunnel, he appeared injured, unable to stand to full height. He was blasting something out of view.

 _John, he's hitting John… No!_

Not able to move her neck or head, her one eye searched the area, looking for what she swore she had a few minutes ago. She saw it, precisely where it had clattered to the ground as the Sith yanked her out of her chair.

 _My phaser,_ only a few feet from her hand, but in her weakened and near paraplegic state, it may as well have been a mile. Her one eye closed, it felt heavy under the exertion. _I need to… I need to help_. Fighting to open the eyelid, she noted the phaser seemed closer now, as if it had moved.

She blinked slowly, her one eye closing and opening at a sluggish rate.

The phaser was now in her hand.

 **Yog-Sothoth, we are ready**

Darth Maul righted his posture along the far wall as he poured out more and more lightning, intensifying the effort as the screaming soldier hung pinned against the steel. But lightning was not enough, Maul sensed he needed more. His eye caught a half tipped barrel a dozen feet off and concentrated on it for a moment, it began to float and head towards the soldier. Inside he knew it contained chemical toxins, and the dark side told him they were combustible. Moving the container through the air, he sent it flying towards the soldier where it burst open like a bladder; the stressed metal unable to contain its contents. Instantly the lightning turned the jelly-like substance into a flaming tornado. It burned blue and orange, the fluid flowing down into the armor and into the facemask, burning and scorching everything in its path. 'John's' skin melted and fused to the inside of the helmet and he howled as the fire and fluid gurgled down his throat and into his lungs.

Then.

Maul sensed movement in the tunnel ahead of him, his eye darted to the side, he saw Cienna clumsily pointing a phaser in his direction. She fired.

Maul ducked, the phaser blast zipping past his head and striking the wall above him. Refocusing his efforts for just a moment, he reached towards her and squeezed, her neck snapped, and arm fell limp onto the grate.

Cienna was dead.

Luke's vision had been fulfilled.

Maul redirected his attention to 'John' who continued to burn and spasm against the wall, his body barely visible through the lightning bolts and burning flame. Inside the inferno of hell, 'John's' mind was shredded, his body engulfed and melting, but unable to die.

 _THEY_ would not let him die,

All the nerves in 'John's' skin continued to regenerate, and so the pain was endless, seething, torturous. They spoke to him as well, showing him visions of what unfolded just in front of him as his eyes had turned to sludge.

 **The Sith has killed her, she died by his hands**

'John's' screams were not just aloud, but internal. _Nooooo! CIENNA!_ A grotesque gurgle of air and liquid fire bubbling and frothing about. He turned his blind face towards the cockpit tunnel, unable to see but sense she was there, laying on the ground, cold and Lifeless.

Alone.

The Old Ones pumped images into 'John's' brain of his old life, of his wife Cindy, then to Cienna onboard the Enterprise. To him, they were one in the same, as designed by the Dalek's. In the frenzy of pain and suffering, 'John's' mind reached the limit. He would do anything to bring her back, he needed her more than anything in the whole of reality.

 _CIENNA!_

 **We can bring her back. We can restore her. We can restore you, to bring vengeance to the Sith.**

 _Wha... What? How How can you do this?_ Not able to think clearly, his instincts ran amok, he wanted her badly, he would do anything. Anything. _How? You must tell me!_

 **SET. US. FREE**

Frantic screams and gyrations of the soldier continued as his mind frayed into a thousand pieces, he promised he would never release them.

But he loved her, even if she could never love him.

Seeing the end, knowing the entire path, the Old Ones allowed 'John's' face to regenerate.

Darth Maul watched as the chemical fire began to change in color, its super hot flame moving away from the armored helmet, lifelike and afraid. Along the whole armor, the burning chemicals turned from a scorching white and orange to a dull red, then lower still to a purple, until finally a pitch black. His Force lightning poured outward, but no longer inflicted the same reaction, the soldier no longer spasmed or screamed.

'John's' new eyes closed as he tilted his head back. _Cienna, forgive me, I love you._

The final sequence, one word at a time, said by one who really believed, who really wished for them to return.

"Yog-Sothoth… Eya... El...nahhh."

The final lock opened, the Old Ones were free.

As his body slid down the wall, no longer held by the dark side of the Force, he experienced everything at once.

'John' stood in his kitchen with his wife, playfully splashing water on each other as dinner cooked. How he had missed it. He stood in his old backyard, mowing the grass as dinner was prepared. He lay in bed and felt the warm skin of his wife.

'John' sat at the coffee shop with Cienna, drinking tea and discussing life and people. Now aboard the Enterprise as they sat together in the mess hall, eating dinner and keeping each other company. He could smell the sweet smell of freshly cut grass as he mowed the lawn, his wife raking the leaves just across the yard.

 _Cienna, he will never harm you again... no one will hurt you again._

Clunk…

Clunk…

Clunk…

The soldier moved off the wall and stalked through the flame, the burning chemicals and blue lightning going unnoticed. For what was fire and lightning to _THEM?_

Maul felt weak as if the lightning was draining him of his own life-force. 'John' was sucking the Force out of him, the essence of his body and soul.

Clunk…

Clunk…

Clunk…

Maul could no longer stop the lightning, even lowering his hands did not stop the flow as it continued out of his face and chest. Maul shut his eyes tight to concentrate, but when he did so, he was not JUST standing in the burning room, but atop the bottomless pit where Obi-Wan hung. He stood across from the Emperor on Coruscant as they drew up their plans, and on Naboo as he searched for young Anakin. He was everywhere, all at once, reliving it.

'John' was not just in the present, but all time, in all crossroads and events in Maul's life. The Old Ones had kept their promise, they would allow 'John' to destroy the Sith. Maul collapsed against the wall, unable to move, his memories showing 'John' in his past, _that's impossible…_ he gasped.

Rubbing his eyes to refocus his vision, he thought he saw multiple versions of the soldier, one still pressed against the wall, others walking about, one directly before him and another, bending down beside the dead woman, gently rubbing her back. The armored hand reached down and closed around the neck of the Sith, as it did in all other times, the same event occurring throughout history. Maul grabbed hold as he was hoisted into the air effortlessly with one arm. He kicked and flailed, his powers useless.

He felt and remembered at the same time, his memories intersecting with the present. In the confusing situation, Maul was not sure if he was living in the present, or experiencing something in his past. It did not matter. He could not stop it.

'John' studied the struggling Sith with a keen but deadly eye, ultimate rage flowing through him. THEY were his ally, THEY were his friends. HE felt their pleasure,

"The Force. Life creates it, makes it grow," Maul stopped struggling, surprised at the soldier's comments. Inside the mask, 'John's' face looked normal, half visible, he began to draw the Sith closer. For a brief moment, Maul felt that perhaps he was having a change of heart, that he had decided to spare his life.

But only for a moment.

'John's' face twisted and bubbled, his visible eye transforming and in a new voice, a combination of Old One and human, a final message to the Sith.

"...but without life… the Force cannot be. We once ruled where you rule now... where we will reign again…"

Maul's face winced in mental anguish, he fought the iron grip,

Across all times he struggled, across all dimensions and parallel universes where he existed.

Then the armor opened, and what revealed itself cannot be known. Only that it represents the only recorded time a mortal has seen an Old One, the full sweep of their existence, unfiltered and clear. Maul blurted out incoherent noise and screamed in total and utter terror. _THEY_ reached outward to grab him, where words fail and description lacks meaning.

Maul plunged his fingers into his eyes and began tearing at them, pushing deep into the sockets before he tasted the sweet sense of death as it overtook him. Where his soul inevitably went no one can know, but it is safe to say no man can ever guess. Everywhere, and always, Maul was dead.

The mortal body fell to the ground as the armor snapped shut, revenge was complete, the promise kept.

In the cockpit, Cienna's eyes snapped open and she gasped for air, her lungs were full and healthy, her body did not ache, the saber wound gone and fully healed. She pulled herself off the ground and ran her hand across her stomach, her dress was a beautiful white, lacking tatter or grime. She felt her hair, long and flowing, undamaged from Data's phaser fire and intense flame.

Restored to how it had been.

 _How?_

She blinked incoherently, _how can this be? How can this be possible?_

Ahead, she saw 'John' standing over a lifeless Maul, he was turned away from her, ummoving.

Her hands ran down her arms and then legs in total shock. Unable to conceive an answer, she instantly thought of the mission. _Daleks!_ She flung herself around the command chair, taking note of the scorched hole in its center where Maul's lightsaber had stabbed her. She eyed it suspiciously before slipping into the seat and pulling the visor down. The Dauntless had not moved, but the space battle was now winding down. In her sensor scope, she saw no sign of Flood ship or Star Road. Cienna then eyed the Dalek base, still 'standing' and repelling the tremendous bombardment. 

She reviewed the instruments and saw the MCW was still charged and ready to fire, this time, there would be no stopping her. She rested her finger on the firing button and closed her eyes.

Click.

An intense beam shot out of the Dauntless and straight towards the Dalek Base, simultaneously, the emergency ejection of the Progenitor Device commenced and flew upward like a missile. The Battle Computer had detected the danger and took action, opening a hyperspace tube high above the black hole.

Cienna knew right away what it was, she focused intently on her sensors, _you will not get away this time. This is the end, the final end._

The MCW bloomed to full effect and the inter-universe collapse became imminent, everything Dalek, both machine, and DNA would be sent to oblivion. She closed her eyes and lowered her head,

 _It's over._

Just as the Progenitor Device reached the hyperspace tube, everything winked out,

All things Dalek were dead, destroyed, obliterated.

Like a mountain lifting off her shoulders, she shouted into the air with relief, she had done it. After a thrilling moment, she remembered.

"John! Spock!" She shouted, scrambling out of the chair and rushing out of the cockpit.

 **Q Continuum**

All Q's stood in a tight circle with backs facing one another, they held their eyes shut and arms outstretched towards the walls of their flimsy tavern. The boards and windows rattled and strained, the Dalek Superweapon had pushed them into their domain, unable to leave or escape. Everything they could muster held the powerful telepathic assault at bay, but as the bombardment abruptly stopped, something else was happening.

The Q relaxed and shifted on their feet, unsure of what came next. Each felt the foundations of the Continuum were solid, and that their pocket dimension far above the reaches of mortals was secure.

"Concentrate my brothers and sisters, concentrate on defense," murmured top hat Q as he looked about, inspecting the corners where the moving shadows once inhabited.

BANG!

The tavern door bulged inward, then relented back to its normal shape. Everyone turned and faced the door, their minds stopping at the foundation of the tavern, blocked from leaving.

But soon the Q realized that was not entirely accurate. Not blocked, but unable to leave because there was an absence of anything outside in which to move _into_.

BANG!

The door bulged inward again, dirt and sand falling off the flimsy hinges and wood panels. All Q shuffled into a tightly packed group, their powers searching for answers.

BANG! BANG! The door blew off the hinges, the door skidding along the ground and crashing into chairs and tables.

Nothing.

Only blackness, with no discernible light, energy, or realm.

"Where… where is the temporal plane? Where is-" young-Q's question never finished. The roof shattered like glass and blew away, the walls splintered and rose into the darkness, gone from sight and comprehension. What remained was just the floor and total and complete blackness, the Continuum had been moved.

As each Q stepped in various directions trying to probe with their mind where they were, glowing orbs began to appear high above, floating in the darkness. Common-Q eyed them suspiciously at first but knew from the old dreams what they were. Only one thing represented the Orbs,

 _Yog-Sothoth…_

Other Q's picked up on his mental wavelength and scoffed,

"There is no such thing, fairy tales!"

Others lowered their heads in sadness,

"How can this have happened to us, how could we not have known?"

The orbs moved towards one area, they sparkled and embraced the Q, beautiful even to the god-beings. The group marveled at them, unsure of how to react, for the first time they were totally lost.

After a long while, the orbs began to ascend into the blackness before fading from view. All Q's were looking in one direction, their sense of danger, dormant for billions of years flared to life, something was rising behind them.

They all slowly turned, the endless abyss giving way to the glimpse of an object rising above the horizon of their broken tavern. They were not somewhere, or elsewhere, but in the center. The very and total center of all things.

"How! How can _THIS_ be?!" shouted top hat Q as he pointed outward. All present raised their powers for defense, erecting in any other circumstance an impenetrable barrier to mind or machine.

All but one.

Common-Q stood silently, looking outward as a man would appreciate a rising sun at dawn. He knew now what rose, something that no defense could repel. His eyes glanced down and he reflected on his time with the Precursors and the things he had learned from his ancient brothers. On his long life, the Q as a whole, and his ultimate error,

Their error.

"We neglected to grow," Common-Q's words came out as a whisper, his companions disappearing as each word left his lips. Only female-Q remained, and he turned to her and smiled. "We thought we were the masters of all existence…" Now the horror broke the plane of the horizon, the one who should not be named. Both Q's closed their eyes as they began to fade, but not before a last word from our Q, a moment of reflection not common at all.

"...and yet we were barely part of it…"

He who rules infinity was never truly seen by the god-beings brought to his court, the Q's essence evaporating into nothingness just as the Daemon Sultan came into view. Like grains of sand in a torrential river, they were washed away and absorbed into the whole, never to exist again.

As few know, but all will understand,

Azathoth reigns supreme.


	46. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Good and Evil

 **Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dauntless**

Captain Kirk could hardly breathe from anxiety as the transporter materialized him aboard the Dauntless. The shields lowering after Boskone ships disappeared into their hyperspace tubes; the Eddorians eager to launch their new war far far away.

Cienna's fate, as well as Spock and Data, unknown to Kirk as he shimmered into view inside the cockpit. Upon materialization, his heart shot into his throat; blood covered the ground, and the toxic stench of burnt material waffled into his nostrils. His head whipped from side to side, his eyes bulging as he categorized each observation.

 _Blood! Whose blood?_

He noted a perfectly cut hole, burnt into the back of the command chair with black soot charring the edges.

 _Only a lightsaber would make this type of incision… but why would a lightsaber be used on this ship?_

He ran down the small tunnel, his boots clanging along the steel, his heart pounding like a drum.

 _Why? Why did someone use a lightsaber? Where is everyone? Cienna! Cienna! Where are you?_

"Cienna!" he shouted; throwing surprise to any invaders to the wind. Han, remaining on the Falcon to scan the area, told him his sensors indicated two humanoids onboard,

 _It must be Spock and Cienna…_

As he entered the chemical room where small fires burned softly, his head spun as he heard her voice. The most beautiful sound any man could hear, who so desperately wanted her to be safe.

"Jim!"

His knees buckled as he chuntered to a halt,

 _She is alive!_ He took a step forward, then another, slowly increasing the pace with every intention of wrapping his arms around her and never letting go. Cienna stood from her kneeling position and raced over, her arms outstretched and ready for embrace.

Jim lifted her off the ground and twirled her around, she dug her head into his shoulder, and each felt as if they were melting through the ship, down deep into the blissful world of escape and freedom. He could smell her scent, that familiar and irresistible sensation of everything he loved. She kissed him passionately, and for a moment, nothing in the entire universe mattered. Worlds, Gods, Wars.

All unimportant.

He ran his fingers through her hair as he pulled his head back to admire her. _As gorgeous as I remember._ He smiled and laughed, slowly placing her down and holding her tight. He marveled at the fact she had made it,

"Cienna, I-"

Then he realized they were not alone.

His mouth snapped shut, and for a moment he thought he was hallucinating. Laying a dozen feet away, the Sith's body lay tattered and shredded. Totally obliterated.

 _What in gods…_

His eyes then scanned the room, another person occupied their space.

 _Not… possible…_

"John…" he barely whispered, untangling his arms from Cienna's as he blinked and stared. In his exuberance to see Cienna, his mind did not register the soldier, laying in the corner with armor intact. So unexpected, so entirely foreign to any semblance of possibility he failed even now to fully grasp what he saw.

"What… what has happened here…?" turning his head from John to Maul and then back to Cienna. Then a chill ran down his spine. "Where… where is Spock?"

Cienna's eyes immediately filled with tears, they burst open like a dam and she buried her head in his shoulder.

"Jim…" she sobbed, "...he is dead!"

Kirk looked as if he had been told something he didn't quite believe, or perhaps his brain did not fully compute what was being suggested. His eyes searched hers, and then he stared past her, fully realizing the scope and consequence of her words.

 _No….no... nonono… it… can't be…_

Backing away and nearly tripping over his own feet, he turned and ran. Back into the bowels of the ship, through the dark tunnel towards the main weapon installation. Cienna closed her eyes and listened to his banging feet grow fainter and fainter until they finally stopped; she knew he had reached the MCW.

Cienna did not know how long her love stayed in engineering, despair blocking her ability to track time.

She stood and waited

And waited

And waited

Until finally from the dark tunnel she heard Jim's boots, much slower and quieter than before. A hand emerged from the corridor, Kirk supported his shocked body as he entered the large room. His face no longer smiling, or happy, just blank, disconnected,

Tortured.

He walked slowly over to Cienna, his shoulders rounded forward, sagging in guilt

"What in the hell happened on this ship?" he managed to whisper. He then focused on 'John' laying on the floor as he stalked towards the laying soldier. "What the hell has happened!?" he shouted. He bent down with one knee and looked into the broken helmet, nearly jumping at the melted face staring back.

'John's' skin had fused entirely with the inside of the armor, the helmet included. It no longer looked like a human; instead the muscle and flesh melted together, with the eye collapsed inward and nose deformed like a skeleton.

"John…" placing his hand on the chest plate, he noticed the many lightsaber marks crisscrossing the breastplate. "...John…John..."

A slight stir,

 _He is alive_

'John's' disgusting lips murmured, the fused and deformed cheek muscles twitching as he tried to produce a few words.

"...safe…" his eyelid could not open, nor would there be an eyeball to reveal, despite this, he struggled on. "She… safe…"

Nodding his head and smiling, Jim turned to Cienna to try and figure out what had happened.

She tried her best to fill him in, wiping her wet eyes as she went.

"Darth Maul and Boba Fett boarded the ship...and Data turned on us, I'm not sure why, but we thought maybe the Dalek's got to him." She hesitated, her lips shaking and cheeks quivering. "Spock. Spock kept the weapon activated so I could fire it. The Dalek's are gone Jim. We did it."

"But how did… how did John get here?"

From his back, the soldier wheezed quietly, managing only a word at a time. Kirk turned to face him, leaning closer to hear what he was trying to say.

"She... called me..."

Kirk slowly nodded,

 _Yes… I can hear it…_ Then the feeling vanished. Kirk shook his head, _what in the world?_

"John. He-" Cienna struggled to get the words out, "...he came for me. He came out of another place. He saved me, I was dying…" she ran her hand over her stomach, the memory of the lightsaber vivid and real. "... Jim… honey… I … I think somehow…"

What she suspected, now came out, the truth of her revival.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Kirk turned back to the dying soldier,

"John… what did you do?" his voice dark and concerning. Looking down inside the cracked helmet, he could have sworn he saw a small smile on the melted lips, or perhaps the beginning of one.

"...they saved her..."

Jim's confusion turned to dread,

"Why!?" he shook John violently on the ground, his hands on either shoulder, "Why John?! Why would they do that? They are evil, vile, creatures." He placed his ear down towards the mask to listen for a reply, he needed to know.

"Promise… had to unlock… gate."

Kirk pulled his head away from the mask, anger welling up,

"You madman! You need to lock them back John! You need to lock them back in!" But he could not. The Old Ones had spoken to him before they had vacated his body. The terms of the deal ensured their freedom.

"Can't… lock them...locked back, she dies, they take her soul and mind."

"No… no that can't be. That can't be…" Kirk started off at a whisper, but then rose to full volume as he stood, turning towards Cienna, desperation in his eyes. She looked as if she had seen a ghost, her face pale and eyes bulging outward.

Kirk thought quickly of alternatives, _perhaps…_

"The Q. We can get the Q to fix this," he said as a matter of fact, confident in his assessment. But hope lasted only a second, the strained and slurred words of 'John' crushing any hope he may have had.

"The Q are gone. I can see it. All… all gone." 'John' coughed and struggled for his last bit of air, the final minute of his life arriving. He made the Old Ones promise another item,

 _THEY_ would allow him to die. He so longed for it to take him, to rest in the silent abyss of oblivion; far from the noises of men and monster. He would die so she could live; and as the seconds approached he rested, complete and fulfilled.

Kirk stared at the soldier, small spasms of stress and incredible confliction rippling throughout the captain's face.

 _If they are locked up… Cienna will die…_

Like a shell-shocked soldier, Kirk wandered past Cienna towards the cockpit.

 _This… can't be happening..._

Leaning against the console, his eyes scanned the emptiness of space through the large windows. Concentrating and without blinking, he stared at the blackness in a single spot. _There...my god... no..._ A dull red hue, not a distant star or spatial-anomaly, but the very essence of the void between stars and galaxies. Not tuition, but another power spoke to him, the truth of things to come, of the present and future.

 _The universe is changing..._

Unsure of how or why, Inside the captain's mind, he sensed the truth. _The Necronomicon was written by a crazed man on Earth thousands of years ago, before the concept of alien worlds, and vastness of the cosmos. Life will not end just in one place, not in one town or country or even planet, but everywhere._ The Dalek's had been right and equally wrong regarding the same outcome. The Old Ones would come, but were not bound to one dimension as they had thought, quickly passing through one as one would walk into another room.

The visions intensified.

A fishing boat's bow rose above the cresting wave as an alien captain and his many servants fought for control. A storm had descended onto the ocean in which they sailed, the waves frothing and wind howling. Another wave smashed into the bow and the boat kicked up before crashing back down, and as the strange aliens on a distant and unknown world fought to control their fishing vessel, they noted the horizon. The ocean seemed to be swelling, miles across, a mountain rose toward the surface. Not of rock, but of strange flesh, from beyond the farthest star; _THEY_ had come, bringing their images with them.

Another vision.

Entities of pure energy who lived in the corona of a star swiftly scuttled like a shoal of fish away from the disturbance deep within the core. The Star began to deform and their home and energy source began to collapse. The entities panicked and drifted outward, desperate to get away, only to be pulled back by an invisible power, to be devoured and torn apart.

Not the core of the brightest star, nor the frigid cold of the deepest space could harm _THEM_. Nothing anywhere was safe.

Kirk closed his eyes and focused, _are these images real?_ More came.

A small child and father sat along a log enjoying a small fire they had lit in the cool forest. The sun had set and the stars were out, visible and beautiful away from the city. The two laughed and giggled as the night brought yawns and stretches. After setting the fire to burn itself out throughout the night, both slipped into their sleeping bags to rest and prepare in their campsite. As the daughter dozed off to sleep, the father heard a twig snap in the distance; then another, closer than the last. He pulled his rifle close and slowly released the safety, _something_ moved towards them, unseen and deadly.

Kirk winced and bit down, he sat with them, he could feel the fear in the father as the darkness snuffed out the firelight, and the forest came alive with deadly intent.

He blocked out the images and hung his head at the cockpit window.

He knew.

He knew what must be done.

He also knew the images and where they came from, the Force flowed through him.

Tears ran down his cheeks and under his jaw. Silent and alone, he closed his eyes and felt for the truth. Not his truth or someone else's, but the full and uncompromised whole. Entering a state of bliss, he let his mind wander, a mix of Lensman and Jedi. The same spirit that had stood against the Precursor and convinced them to stop expanding and help against the Dalek's. The same that all Starfleet Captains chose to follow into battle around Vulcan. The same that had touched Vader's heart and pleaded with him to turn against the Emperor. The same that had let Edith Keeler die so many years ago.

Kirk opened his eyes and turned slowly towards the tunnel leading back into the main room. Only ten feet away but seemingly miles, he took a step. Holding onto the command chair, he felt dizzy from the mental load of what he must do. He took another step, his leg shaking and unsteady.

 _Why... why me? Why god why!_

He walked down the tunnel, holding onto the walls as he lumbered forward, guided by purpose and ridden with sorrow. He entered the main room, wobbly, his soul aching in pain. Cienna sat cross-legged beside 'John,' her head stooped down with one hand in his armored glove.

"This is all my fault," she conceded. "I was a trap, the bait for the Dalek plan. Their final plan. One they wanted to launch against the Time Lords, but, I guess they decided to attack the Q instead."

James stopped beside both, she did not look up, only seeing black pant legs and boots in her vision. She sniffed away some tears and then leaned over the broken face mask of her guardian.

"Thank you John," she reached into his mask and stroked his disfigured cheek, he murmured softly as he receded closer to death. He could hardly hear now, vaguely aware of his surrounding. He felt at peace, like a warm bath running gently over his broken body. He stood inside his house, someone was standing at the sink preparing to wash some vegetables, the sun gleaming off her hair and soft skin. Cienna and Cindy were the same person to him, and there she was, with him again.

Further he fell into the next phase of existence, into death and peace long sought.

As he lay still on the floor, Kirk leaned down and placed an open palm on the helmet. Not entirely sure of his new ability, he felt this best served his purpose. Closing his eyes and concentrating on the visions he had just experienced, he willed them through. The ancient horrors stalked the cities and crushed the forest, their unstoppable march now trickling into the mind of the dying soldier.

But knowledge and truth moved both ways, in Kirk's mind he saw the words that 'John' spoke earlier, the sequence used to unlock the Old Ones from their prison and the spell to send them back.

Cienna watched in awe, mesmerized by her man's newfound power. 'John' mumbled something incoherent, trying to convey a message before he faded away.

"You do not believe, because she will die."

Kirk lifted his hand and exhaled a deep sigh,

 _If I do not believe, knowing she will die… I cannot trap them_

Cienna stood and backed up towards the steel wall, her face pale as a ghost.

 _I do not want to die. I… I... oh my god, help me,_ her heart raced, and she felt like fleeing, but did not. Could not. _I am responsible for this, because of me..._

Kirk turned towards her, silent tears rolling. She held her arms out and she shivered, a terrifying end she knew was only moments away.

Each step the captain took towards her seemed like he carried the world on his back until he finally reached her and they embraced. Time with her flashed past, he felt every moment, saved every memory no matter how fleeting. He would always remember her…

But the universe needed him now, all mankind, all aliens and beasts of other worlds.

Shaking, he held her at bay and looked deep into her eyes, both crying, he kissed her one last time.

"Forgive me Cienna, forgive me and I love you."

She smiled softly, wiping away the tears with one hand,

"I love you too, goodbye my love."

Raising his chin to stop his mouth from quivering, Kirk voiced the first word of the spell, the same a before only backward,

"...Elnahhh…"

The room shook violently, and the shadows screamed with horrific realization. Inside 'John's' head, where his mind drifted downward to nothingness, he felt the sharp stab of the Old Ones,

 **He believes! How can he believe?! The truth should stop him, but does not! He has no doubt!**

Spasms overtook Kirk's body, the terrible guilt overwhelming him,

 _Why me!? Why! Why her?! God help us._

Lowering his head to the ground, using Cienna to support himself, he gripped each of her shoulders as he murmured the next word,

"...Eya…"

Fire all around the room belched upward and roared as if ejected by flamethrowers. Inside the soldiers head the Old Ones gnawed crazily, tearing at his mind and bringing him up to date. 'John's' peaceful bliss switched to anger and rage, beginning to boil and burn with fury,

 _What!? He is saying the spell? NO! NO! Cienna! Noo! My love! Ciennnnaaaaaaaa_

 **You must stop him!**

'John' felt his mind being pulled from the depths of near death, ascending towards the surface of a deep ocean. As he rose he became more aware of his own feelings and surroundings.

 _How can he do such a thing? How?!… How can a man do this?_ His mind raced, anger rising to unseen levels. _How can he have the resolve to believe… knowing she is going to die._

But another thought crept up as well, one he knew he buried, tucked away and held close,

 _Kirk is a good man, better than I..._ _genuinely good, always trying to do what is right, even in the face… of losing his love… the burden I have created..._

 **She dies! Her soul, her mind, unable to return. Stop him, and she will have our protection. As we promised with her life. As we pledged with your death.**

Images of a dying Cienna raced through his mind, her pain and suffering having no bounds. It stabbed into him, ripping into his ability to reason and clearly conceive.

 _Cienna! I. Am. Her. Protector! I know what I must do. He cannot be allowed to finish the spell._ He concentrated his mental energy towards the Old Ones, his conviction as strong as Kirk's, and so he called upon them. _Grant me power one last time… and you shall never need to again._

 **So it is promised, so it is done**

Kirk screamed into the air while sobbing uncontrollably. Cienna stood, her pain not of near death, but of the suffering of her lover. She loved him more than anything in the world, she placed her hand on his sweat-matted hair and calmly spoke,

"James...it is ok. I forgive you. I will see you again, I will be waiting for you."

This calmed the captain down, he looked up at her and smiled. Placing his hand on her cheek, he prepared himself for the final word. He dulled his eyes and opened his mouth.

"...Yog…" Struggling to complete his terrible burden. "...Yog...S...so…" As he froze with the last word, Cienna's painful smile and tear glittering eyes shifted in focus. From sadness to surprise, and then of terror; looking past Kirk's shoulder, to something behind him. Kirk noted the shadow on the wall; it showed her, himself, and now something rising behind him. He turned his head slowly, his emotions blown to the four winds, as he turned, his eyes widened.

'John's' armored helmet passed Kirk's view, the soldier rising to full height. The once melted face fully healed, his visible eye as black as night, and inside it, the depths of a million worlds. The Force sent out an alarm, a desperate bid for the captain to escape; but Kirk knew there was nothing he could do. No ability could contest such raw power. 'John's' hatred sizzled and bubbled the air, light retreated to safety, and the imminent sense of Doom overcame the captain.

Kirk looked into the eye of the soldier, the tortured soul swallowing him whole, bringing him down deep into the conscious and subconscious where none could escape. Jim was lost in the daze, the madness and horror of a life long lived in eternal hell. Kirk heard the soldier in his mind,

 _If you could only see what I have seen, been where I have been…_

'John's' eye flared and burned, the power of which Kirk could not match or contend bubbled and prepared to erase him from all existence, now and forever. Slowly, 'John's' armored hand wrapped itself around the captain's neck and Jim closed his eyes, their minds meeting for the final time.

 _She will not be alone Jim... she will never be alone._

"Yog-Sothoth"

Kirk jolted in utter shock, his eyes opening in total surprise. 'John' had spoken the last remnant of the spell; not just a word, but a belief. The All-In-One, the One-In-All, Yog-Sothoth knew it to be true.

The captain immediately felt the weight of Cienna as she collapsed down, he whirled around and caught her, screaming in sorrow.

"Nooooooooooooo!"

Like a marionette with its strings cut, 'John' fell towards the metal grates, clanging loudly as his solid armor smacked into the ground. With a final thought, the last of his long and tortured life, he was with her. No longer alone in the dark madness, but in the light that burned deep. He was at peace, sharing the forever moment with his wife.

The Old Ones were gone, trapped in their prison beyond the realm of reason. So long had they wished to be free they failed to look inward once their gate had been opened. Stretching to every corner of the reality, they pushed outward, ignoring the small spark within.

Their one and only mistake.

Why 'John' decided to spare Kirk the burden of that which he ultimately enacted is not known.

A why, we will never know.

Crumpling over, the captain howled and shouted, raged and screamed. He called out the Gods that did her wrong. He grabbed 'John' by the helmet and asked why? But 'John' was gone, a final and fateful rest.

Fires in the room dulled and the flames shrank to a flicker. Silence, total and absolute.

"Why god why?! Why am I here, why am I here on this ship of the dead? Why couldn't it have been me? Why her? Why does she die, and I live?"

Hours passed, perhaps longer.

Seated against the wall, KIrk's fingers still interlocked with Cienna's, he entered a haunting sleep, stirring every so often as images whisked through his mind. He even thought himself dreaming when he heard Han's frantic cries over the radio,

"Jim! Jim! Ship coming out of a hyperspace-" static came over the comm-link "...caught in a tractor beam...can't move the Falcon."

Kirk's head snapped up and he grabbed his communicator, dialing in the frequency to try and raise the smuggler.

"Han? Han!?" More static. He noted a high level of interference, and no matter the dialing or configuring could not get through to the Falcon. Flipping the communicator closed, he moved his legs, stiff as boards from the awkward angle in which he rested. He felt exhausted, emotionally drained and in all aspects, burnt out. As he stretched his neck and arms, the familiar hum of transporter beams sounded throughout.

He pulled himself to his feet as three distinct beams wooshed to life across the room, the energy then faded, leaving three guests.

Only Kirk's eyes moved; searching for weapons scattered along the floor. He noted Maul's lightsaber and remembered a phaser laying in the cockpit.

Three men stood before him.

Evil-Kirk, evil-Spock and a giant Romulan he did not recognize.

The first thing the captain noted was the horrendous injuries to his alter-ego's face. One eye appeared blind, with scars and deep chasms etched across his face. Three bands holding black Lenses were wrapped around the forearm of Evil-Kirk, with a forth wrapped around the back of his hand. They pulsated slowly, Evil-Spock displayed two, and Teemar none. All three eyed the room carefully without a word.

Teemar nodded his head to his boss and then set out towards the back of the ship, his size fourteen boots clanking along as he disappeared into the tunnel. Kirk's eyes followed the fat Romulan before bringing them back on point and set towards the other captain.

"Hell of a war," said evil-Kirk, flat and without emotion.

"Hell of a war," came the reply, equally flat and without flair.

Neither spoke again for ten seconds. Instead, they sized each other up and thought of all possible actions and counteractions.

"Good to see you, Spock." Kirk knew evil-Spock from his days aboard the mirror-Enterprise so many years ago. He had always wondered what had happened upon his others return.

"Good to see you,"

This reply caused evil-Kirk to shoot his friend a dirty look. Annoyed they knew each other, he cut their chat off quickly,

"Enough!" he roared, whipping his head back towards Kirk and sneering. "We have come to kill you, the idiot soldier, and the girl. Do you know that?"

Kirk looked unimpressed; instead he looked about, bored. But his demeanor nothing more than a ruse, a thinly veiled barrier to separate himself from a crushing defeat. With Cienna gone, he lacked the will to defend himself, to truly fight.

Evil-Kirk's black Lenses glowed and throbbed as he penetrated the mind of his counterpart, ensuring no traps existed.

"I can read your mind, I can see..." evil-Kirk pushed inward and began to probe, looking through the recent past. As he did, a small quiver on his cheek, a slight narrowing of the eye as he felt the pain.

Pain that any Kirk from any universe would feel, inside the dream it all came pouring in.

Evil-Kirk stood in the engineering section of the Dauntless, witnessing what occurred a few hours ago. He saw his good-self collapse down to his knees and mourn the terrible loss of his first officer. Spock lay beside Boba, both caught in a blast of the ruptured energy cell. What Kirk felt, evil-Kirk experienced first hand. As he watched, the memory morphed, and now his counterpart stood across engineering, talking to him.

"Poor Spock…" Kirk's mouth quivered even in the dream-like state. "...you still have your friend, I… I do not."

Evil-Kirk said nothing. Instead, he looked down at the dead body and thought of his own friend, about how he would feel if he were ever to lose him. Despite the bankruptcy of morality in his mirror universe, they were still friends. In their own twisted way, they cared for each other.

"Where is Bones?" asked evil-Kirk, still looking at the body.

"Alive...dead. I do not know. The last time I saw the doc, he was in an escape pod near Vulcan."

After an extended moment of self-reflection evil-Kirk gathered his thoughts, something inside him suddenly did not like what he knew he must do.

"I've come to kill you. Time… to die." He raised his hand forward and the black lenses flared with power, radiating inside the dreamworld. Standing opposite the dead Vulcan, Kirk took in a deep breath and outstretched his own hand, concentrating on his inner will. He did not know what extent he could access the Force, but he was about to find out.

Evil-Kirk rushed forward, their telepathic battle represented by a physical attack inside Kirk's mind. Black Lens power met a combination of the Force and an enhanced brain by a Second Stage Lensman.

Both captains collided together and went tumbling through the flimsy reality of the dream world. They rolled and plunged through memory and dream, smashing through walls as if they were made of paper.

One moment they were slugging it out onboard the Enterprise's bridge, the next, struggling in the streets of old Earth where many adventures had taken Kirk and his crew.

Evil-Kirk landed a devastating right hook followed by a chop to the neck. James dropped to the floor but rolled out of the way, barely avoiding a boot to the neck. He jumped through the wall into another dream, now back on Earth and inside Starfleet Command.

As Evil-Kirk reoriented himself, he was tossed across the room by a Force push, smashing through a wall and into the mountains of Iowa. He tumbled down a dusty hill before colliding into the stump of an old tree. He looked around, knowing precisely where he lay. _My home._ Even in his mirror universe he still occupied the same place, a log cabin where he could retreat from it all.

Evil-Kirk's head spun like a top, looking for his opponent. Then out of the ground, KIrk burst outward, dust and leaves blasting all over. He tossed his mirror-other into the air until he crashed through the wall of his own cabin, landing not inside, but now on the Enterprise outside his quarters.

Both lunged at each other, their hands wrapping around each other's throat. Black Lenses flared and pulsated, each man screamed and cursed as they pushed one way then another.

The walls began to glow a hot white and everything flashed, the dream was coming apart. Even so, the two men locked in mortal combat did not disengage, they continued, unabated and unrelenting.

The scenery changed, this time they were standing inside Kirk's quarters, apart and no longer clutching one another. Kirk froze, for on his bed lay Cienna, as beautiful as ever. The memory seemed so real he could even see the sheets rising and falling softly as she slept.

Evil-Kirk sensed the weakness and teleported himself beside the bed where he reappeared with his lenses pointed at the sleeping Cienna. Kirk screamed and squeezed with his hand, his evil-self hoisted into the air beginning to choke. Even though no air was needed in a dream, the mind reacted to the assault, the images and scenes merely represented in their tug of war.

"You will not delete her from my memory!"

Evil-Kirk ignored the warning and concentrated on his actions, his choking and gasping for air subsiding. All three lenses flared, and slowly but surely, Cienna's sleeping body began to fade. As she shimmered and turned translucent, Kirk squeezed harder, emptying his reserves into his terrible opposite, determined to kill him before Cienna could be vanquished from his memory.

But he was not fighting any regular foe. Not some goon, not some hired gun; but himself.

Evil-Kirk could feel his own mind slipping, but he knew too well the desire of the other captain and his love. It was a race, and he knew in order to win he must let go of his mind-block. Releasing his last bastion of defense, evil-Kirk hurled the utmost of mental and lens power into Kirk's memory.

Jim realized aspects of Cienna were now missing, and despite his best efforts could not ward off the attack on his memory. He dropped to one knee under the onslaught, his essence teetering on total collapse.

"Cienna! Noo!"

Evil-Kirk's resolve increased and he fell from the air, pushing harder with his power to delete the memories. And as he drove to dissolve them, an unexpected occurrence swept over him.

He felt them as his other did. The incredible loss, the anguish of the final spell, and the weight of Cienna as she fell limp to the Old Ones.

He felt the pain, over and over he could sense the emotions. Spock, Cienna, Kinnison, Luke, Scotty, Picard, and many others; all dead. As he focused deeper into the pain to delete the last memories, it was as if he was scanning his own mind and feeling his own torment.

Kirk closed his eyes and fought his way to his feet, his hand outstretched as his final amount of energy dwindled. Evil-Kirk flared his lenses again, this time turning them towards his opponent. He fired a bolt of white-hot energy which enveloped his counterpart.

"You…" Kirk fought to speak, each excruciating word at a time. "...can only kill me… but you cannot beat me." Lowering his guard entirely, Evil-Kirk was sucked into the full depth of the others mind. He fell in, entirely and absolutely, sharing every memory now, from the most passionate to the most desperate. And in the intermingling of souls, the fight was over.

"We are the same."

"But different."

The dream ended, both stood as they were, in the large room aboard the Dauntless with lightly burning fires and dead bodies.

"You have no power Captain," said Kirk. "Killing can be performed by any man. Animals kill, viruses kill…"

Evil-Kirk lowered his lenses, held before him like a power-wielding gauntlet, he considered before speaking.

"Not power precisely..no…"

Kirk took a step forward, reinvigorated at the connection he was making, a link he knew his counter felt as well. While they tumbled and tousled inside his dream, he had touched and delved into his opponents, Boskone's inner workings revealed themselves.

"You are a puppet. You aren't sure of who runs the enormous organization, you aren't even sure how you came to be in the ranks. You were sent here to kill me and to stop 'John' from releasing the spells, of which you have no idea."

"I am climbing the ranks..." smiled evil-Kirk,

"Out there," pointing to the wall and beyond the ship, "is an infinite existence, one you and I barely understand. Maybe. Just maybe… something exists...a power to bring someone back to life, to reverse death." Kirk looked down at Cienna, the rest of his sentence more difficult to get out. "...to bring someone back, to bring them all back." He smiled as he reflected on his friends. "If you were to have such an ability... if you could help me find it. No one could challenge you. You would be revered throughout the universe. That is real-"

"...power…" Evil-Kirk finished the sentence, unable to deny the logic, and agreeing completely.

"Anything can kill, anyone can destroy and murder. But you. You will be untouchable with legions of followers, relishing in your spotlight."

"I have followers, millions…" but evil-Kirk's voice trailed off, "But not real power. Not untouchable power. Replaceable."

Interrupting the conversation, Teemar came trudging back into the room holding a piece of the MCW. He paused, perhaps not expecting the two to be speaking. He hesitantly placed the component down on the ground and stood silently against the wall, waiting for further instructions.

Evil-Kirk looked down at his lenses, each representing a different commander killed, all reoriented to adapt to his physiology.

 _No matter how far I climb, there is always another level, another puzzle to solve… I am just a puppet…_ He already knew this, but hated to admit it.

"I need to be in command…"

"We will always be in command," finished Kirk.

Evil-Kirk turned to Teemar,

"Get back to Coruscant and make sure things don't fall apart. I want a dictator government running in less than a year. No public bailouts of industries, only the strongest and cleverest are to survive. Leave this component as well," pointing to the device on the floor.

Teemar nodded and exchanged an icy stare with Kirk before teleporting away. Sensing their imminent departure, evil-Spock pulled his tricorder and scanned the MCW coil-reactor,

"Blueprint obtained, we can now procure it." He nodded slightly to his old acquaintance across the room before teleporting away himself.

Now both Kirk's stood alone, on the ship of the dead, their minds melded and shared, with no secrets between them. The first step was evil-Kirk's as he made his way towards his peer, unbuttoning one of the lenses as he approached. He glanced down at it, it was his first, the one around his hand. Stopping in front of Jim, he held it out and passed it along.

Kirk accepted it, and without breaking eye contact, strapped it to his own wrist. It flared a wild purple and black, before settling on a bright orange and red, the same as Kinnison. A real Lensman, perhaps more.

"The same."

"But different."

Evil-Kirk turned to walk away but found himself looking down at Cienna, not moving for several long seconds. His eyes narrowed in reflection,

"Find the power of the mind and soul… of all infinity… and bring them back." He walked back to where he had initially transported in before turning and delivering his last message. "And after you do, I will kill you."

As the transporter initiated, a reply,

"And I will be waiting," a smile grew on each man's face as the Dauntless was left with but one.

Kirk hung his head.

It was all over.


	47. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

The Beginning is the End Is the Beginning

 **Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Earth - Iowa**

Dr. McCoy pushed against the loose dirt and steep incline of the hill a kilometer from his friends log cabin. He had been hiking for half an hour, enjoying the rustling of tree branches in the autumn breeze.

Weeks had passed since the battle of the galactic core and cleanup efforts were underway for the devastation brought by the attack upon Earth and Vulcan. The truth of the Daleks, Boskone, Flood, Old Ones, Empire, and the fate of Q had been disseminated to the general population. But like all things, the truth rarely mattered to the grieving families. The how or why could not bring back their loved ones, the billions consumed by the Flood or pulverized in ship to ship combat.

Corruption, once stamped out, spread freely. The Federation was gone, and now ruthless citizens on many planets quarreled for control of resources and political talking points. Boskone's ideology had taken a firm hold of the Milky Way, with remaining black Lensman keeping an eye on the long-term strategy; one that would require thousands of human lifetimes.

Reaching the top of the hill, Bones dusted off his pant legs and headed towards the ridge where Kirk sat and watched the sunrise. It was dawn, and the birthing sun turned the countryside into a beautiful collage of golden color and shadow.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" said Bones as he settled himself down on a rock, "A new day."

"It is."

Bones did not come up for the view. He came to check on his best friend. The Doctor now knew the events onboard the Deathstar and Dauntless, the death of Kinnison, Spock, and Cienna.

"You know… Jim…" searching for his words, "... is it possible, out there, that no matter how many other Jim Kirk's there are, they will always revert to the same"

Playing with some earth between his fingers, Kirk smiled and then looked up at the blood-red horizon. The rising Sun's rays inching their way along the ground, giving vital heat and energy to the creatures and plants for the day.

"Possibly… I can only hope he chooses to help... we will need him in the times ahead," he threw away a pebble and looked down at the forest and streams below. "I couldn't save her, Bones. You know that? I could not save her. The Old Ones were on their way, if only I had more time…"

"Don't be so damn hard on yourself Jim," shot the doctor, easily switching from physician to friend and then back again. "You had to make an impossible decision…"

"So did he… Bones… you should have seen him. When I turned around, I saw my own life flash before my eyes. And now I'm here, and… she isn't."

Bones remembered back to the Enterprise, inside Sickbay when the stormtroopers attempted to take over the ship. How 'John' had obliterated them, and saved his life as well as his staff.

"I said once, that in every man there is a fight between good and evil… and while we'll never know, I suppose, I mean, god…" he petered out and looked at the sunset. "So now what Jim? The ship is ready, the ceremony an hour away…"

"How is Cienna?" bringing the subject back to what occupied his mind,

"Good Jim, in complete cryogenic stasis. I just wish we could have done the same for Spock. At least with her, you know… there is nothing physically wrong with her. She's in perfect condition."

Kirk nodded but said little, preoccupied with his own thoughts and on the path ahead. Bones paid particular attention, watching his friend's eyes as they scanned the horizon and beautiful view.

"You know, Jim. Suppose you're right, suppose there is a way to control the afterlife. Where a soul and mind can be brought back. Are we meant to control such power? To play god?" McCoy shook his head and looked down, "... life and nature, the universe at large. It's balanced…" he stopped talking and sighed. "What the hell do I know, I'm just a country doctor."

"Bones, if you could save a patient with a snap-"

"Jim. People are meant to die. Things die. Dammit Jim. I mean, dammit to hell. I know it hurts, I've lost a thousand-"

"But you didn't try and kill them…"

This shut McCoy's mouth as he prepared his counter.

"No… your right… I tried to save them."

"As I am, all of them." Kirk turned to his friend, the red horizon placing a red hue over his face and shining eyes, "I will save them."

"If such an ability exists, imagine who else is looking for it? Imagine what you will have to face to control it all… god help us, it would be a war for all infinity."

Nothing else was said for a long while, the two men enjoying each others company in the fresh air. One of their communicators beeped to signal the reminder of the day's events. Kirk stood and dusted off his pants, taking one last view of the scenery before he and Bones descended to the cabin.

 **San Francisco** \- **Mid Day**

Resembling a nuclear holocaust, the city of San Francisco had not yet rebuilt or remotely recovered from the devastation caused by the attack from mirror-Enterprise. A crater a mile wide and hundreds of feet deep replaced the once stellar Starfleet Headquarters. Down in the rubble, at the bottom of the pit, a large stage had been constructed with screens installed for the growing crowd. Citizens working to move debris and help with reconstruction efforts shuffled towards the stage, people formed along the lip of the crater, temporarily setting aside their work to watch the presentation.

The speakers sent out an all familiar sharp pitch as the newly appointed President pulled the microphone close and cleared his throat. Standing behind the Podium, President Yokohono, of Japanese descent smiled before beginning.

"Hello everyone, thanks for coming. This is being broadcast through the entire subspace network, and so I will also say, hello to everyone on Earth and into the Alpha Quadrant. To our friends, and to our enemies I will say this. We are still here. Our resolve has been tested, certainly, but we have prevailed." He turned around to look at the assembled guests on stage, but his eyes focused on one. "I have been elected by the citizens of Earth. I can say that as of now the Federation Alliance needs some rebuilding, and we will get to that in due time. But I do not wish to bore you with politics. Everyone is busy, and so we will be brief. Before the crew departs on the newly built Enterprise, I'd like to now pass the podium over to a man who knows no introduction-"

The crowd cheered and roared in unison,

KIRRRRKKKKK!

KIRRRRKKKKK!

KIRRRRKKKKK!

Bones smiled and clapped while elbowing his friend towards the front of the stage. Jim smiled bashfully before shaking the President's hand and taking center stage behind the podium.

The sea of people swayed and hollered, shouted and sang, he smiled down at them, trying to connect with each. After a minute, he raised his hands to calm the noise so he could begin.

"Thank you, thank you…" the noise turned to a dull murmur. A speech he had worked on tirelessly for a day could no longer be recalled. The want and need of the people overwhelmed him in a way he had not experienced before. Kirk stood with his mouth half open, marveling at the faces looking upon him, the dirty and sweaty citizens of Earth coming together for the collective good. He felt moved, and his memories started to drift, he spoke freely, unconcerned with bias or politics.

"The war has extracted a terrible cost. For those who fought it, and those who were left behind," the last words stung deep, his cheek quivering. "But the fight is not over. The next will not be with phasers or photon torpedoes but with our minds. Our very ideals. Boskone is among us, and we do not know who controls them. The vast network of agents work tirelessly to change our hearts and minds. But we cannot win this in a day, or a year, or even a generation. This will be multi-generational, and that is why they are so dangerous. A slow methodical shift of our morality, generation after generation. Century after Century. Millennium after millennium. We will need to make new allies and friends... We-" he caught himself, his eyes looking to the horizon and future, "...we will have to travel far…" no longer looking at the crowd or an individual, but through them, past them. "...further than anyone has ever traveled before." Kirk slowly arched his head to the sky; the crowd seemingly feeling his pain. "I will bring them back. I will bring them all back." The last a murmur rather than a bold statement as his mouth moved away from the microphone.

President Yokohono watched as the captain pulled himself away from the podium and headed back towards Bones at the rear of the stage. With a sudden sense of pride the president had never felt, something urged him towards the microphone. Pulling it close to his lips he looked directly at Kirk as he walked away,

"May the Force be with you."

Kirk stopped in his tracks and turned around. The President was smiling but seemed momentarily confused, unsure of what he said or why. Kirk felt the swaying crowd, and the energy radiating among them. He nodded in thanks and turned as he had started.

Walking with Bones towards a landing pad set up in the ashes of San Francisco, Bones mulled his question over, unsure if he imagined things,

"Jim. How did the President know about the Force?"

The captain stopped and looked at his friend, not making eye contact but reflecting on something in his mind.

"I do not know," his eyes moving back and forth as a smile crept along his face, "life creates it, makes it grow. Perhaps," he turned towards the stage and the crowd beyond, "perhaps hope."

Bones smiled and placed his hand on Jim's shoulder,

"Maybe it doesn't matter."

Gathering their thoughts, the two men walked up a steel staircase and onto the landing platform, where the Millenium Falcon and an Imperial Lambda Class shuttle waited.

Han Solo wiped his hands down with a dirty rag which he stuffed into his back pocket to greet Kirk and McCoy. Shaking their hands vigorously, then turning towards the Falcon with a sigh.

"I'll be returning to the Imperial Galaxy with Chewie. I need to find Leia."

Kirk knew of the Boskone operation against the Rebels and the overthrow of Coruscant from his mind-merge with his evil self. He nodded in understanding,

"Be careful Han. A Romulan named Teemar will be waiting. He is dangerous."

"Thanks buddy, let's hope I get the help I need." Han glared towards the other side of the platform before smiling and walking up the ramp to the Falcon.

Kirk and McCoy signaled a goodbye before heading towards the Imperial shuttle. They waited at the foot of the ramp as it hissed and lowered, smoke and exhaust rolling in the wind. Darth Vader's heavy boots clunked down towards the platform, his armor fully restored with a shiny polish.

Vader stopped at the bottom of the ramp, Kirk looked up at him through his eyebrows, neither said a word; only the rhythmic and mechanical breathing of the dark lord. From behind, a small squad of stormtroopers slowly descended, each holding the side of an Imperial stasis pod.

"Our Bacta tank was unable to resuscitate your friend," rumbled Vader.

The stasis pod was sealed, and the troopers placed it on the ground beside the two Starfleet officers. Vader waved them off before turning back to the Captain and Bones.

"Captain Kirk…" slowly and unexpectedly, Vader offered his hand, a gesture he had not provided in two decades. Jim looked down and accepted without smiling. His feelings were still mixed and torn, unsure of how to classify the Empire at this point.

"Perhaps," started the Captain "in the future, we can be friends. We face a common enemy."

"Perhaps... Boskone infiltrates all our worlds. We will meet again..." but Vader seemed to have something else on his mind, and the two men looked at each other for a long moment, "Hate and fear lead to the dark side, do not make the mistake I have."

Not breaking his gaze, Kirk replied, his chin rising in defiance,

"I need my hate, I need my fear, they are _mine_ to control..."

"Like your friend, the Lensman. Trust your feelings, they will serve you well. Until we meet again." Turning, his cape flapping, Darth Vader strode back into the shuttle which roared to life. Shielding their eyes, the Imperial shuttle rose off the ground and headed towards the Deathstar.

Over the rumbling of engines, Bones leaned over to his friend with a thought,

"Do you think one day, we can work with him?"

The shuttle grew fainter and fainter, up towards the clouds. And as both men followed with their squinting eyes, Kirk smiled in reflection. He had not expected Vader to have tried to save his friend, the touching effort giving him hope of a future alliance.

"Yes, when the time is right."

 **Enterprise - Cargo Hold - 1 Day Later**

"Jim? Jim? Ji-"

Bones turned another corner and found his friend standing alone in front of Cienna's cryogenic chamber, he had just pressed the button for it to close,

"Oh, sorry, Jim, I uh... I didn't-"

Kirk smiled and waved off his friends apology,

"It's okay Bones. After the burial ceremony ended… I wanted to come down here before we cast off."

The Doctor smiled; the burial in space ceremony had been especially tough on the captain. As was tradition, Spock, Kinnison and John's bodies had been placed inside torpedo's and fired out of the newly constructed Enterprise during its trial run around the solar system. Their bodies destined for the core of the sun, to be eventually fused with other elements and spat out into the cosmos, to begin again.

"Did you know that they have something called an Emergency Medical Hologram which they tried to install in my sickbay Jim? A goddamn robot."

Kirk chuckled as he sealed the closed doors of the cryogenic chamber and rested his hand against the shut panels, one last touch before the mission began.

"I'm sure you told them to get rid of it,"

"Damn right, told the Earth technician to get it off the ship. Should have seen this guy though, got three medical tables up in less than forty minutes."

That seemed puzzling to the captain,

"I thought they were done all that? I thought we were ready to go?"

"Well we are now, should recruit this guy though, his name was… ah well I can't remember. But anyway… looked like he was cut out of granite."

Kirk smiled but then felt something familiar _looks like granite…_ he dismissed it for now, it did not matter.

As Bones turned to exit, he noticed another open panel, this one across from the cryo-chamber which Jim had been looking at. McCoy took a step forward and looked in. Set behind glass as if on display in a museum was 'John's' armor.

"Jim, I thought you got rid of this?"

Kirk looked down, lost for words or explanation. As McCoy waited for an answer, he remembered his time with 'John' inside sickbay as the stormtroopers piled in. The ferociousness and rabid and unquestionable brutality of the soldier never forgotten.

"He saved my life, inside sickbay when we were being boarded." Now the doctor thought of what his friend had told him aboard the Dauntless, and the sacrifice he had seemingly made. "Why. Why do you think he did it Jim? Why do you think he said the final words?"

"I'm not sure, and we may never know. His greatest weakness… and greatest strength was one and the same. And so," Jim began to choke up, unable to keep his emotions at bay, "we share something."

McCoy and Kirk both stared at the scratched and stained armor, focusing on the helmet and crusted black tar-like fluid. From the hole in the faceplate, the unknown substance had flowed out and down the front of the mask; a grisly reminder of his eternal nature. They imagined seeing the eye of the madman looking out at them, the depths of insanity and deprivation having no bounds. The armor representing horror, madness, and absolute brutality.

Kirk's eyes glazed over, his thoughts distant and unfocused. Barely audible, as if in a daze, a small whisper escaped his lips.

"...we will need him...to fight fire with fire…"

Bone's head snapped sideways and looked at his friend with deep concern,

"What?"

Kirk blinked away the daze and shut the panel with a bang,

"Just daydreaming, sorry," he muttered as he and Bones exited the cargo bay and parted to their respected stations.

The new bridge of the Enterprise teamed with equipment and the most advanced sensor and data mining mechanisms available. The ship was built swiftly and bristling with all kinds of weapons and propulsion systems, including the deadly MCW. Evil-Kirk had left more than just the Magnetic Corridor Weapon behind. Blueprints and schematics to the hyperspace tube as well as Inertialess drive were also found, beamed aboard the Dauntless as the mirror-Enterprise exited the Galactic Core. Now these systems were fully operational aboard the newly built ship, and everyone was set and ready for action.

"Initiate Bergenholm Drive."

Deck Plates beneath their feet hummed and vibrated, a woosh overcame every officer onboard, but nothing further. Technicians relayed the all-clear, the Enterprise was now Inertialess. A young ensign ran over with a datapad for Kirk to review the final duty rosters and inventory.

"Kirk to transporter room,"

"Go ahead sir,"

"Did the Earth technician beam back to Earth?"

"Yes sir, we just sent him down."

Kirk snapped the circuit shut and was half-a-second from handing the datapad back when he saw the live update on the bottom,

-Current Aboard 231-

Jamming his thumb down again, he called for his friend,

"Bones. Last week, how many men did you say you cleared for this ship?"

"Two-hundred and thirty, including you and I. Completed all the physicals myself, why?"

Kirk stared at the deckplate for a long time, his eyes shifting from place to place, connecting the dots, trying to put it together. _Looked like granite… Bacta tank... transporter chief doesn't remember..._ _an extra person onboard..._

Any other captain may not have put it together.

Any. Other.

Sensing something, and as only a few will; he began to raise his head, his mouth open in astonishment and surprise.

 _You sneaky... son of a … welcome back..._

Beaming with resolve and renewed confidence, he ordered the hyperspace tube open. On the viewscreen, a torrent of energy flowed out of the deflector dish and began to form like a vortex in front of them. The hyperspace tube opened, its angry power daring them to enter.

"Uh. Sir," came the nervous voice of Sulu, "...we are going in that?" Pointing towards the screen.

Captain Kirk looked to his wrist, studying the Lens. Soon his smile gave way to a fiery stare, full of passion and pride. He raised the Lens up, his eyes glimmering in reflection. Pushing outward, the Lens flared wildly, his mind expanding likewise.

"Lensmen always go in."

All across the planet, words were heard, not in speakers, or screens, but in the minds of all willing to listen. Through the Force, and power of the Lens, a message came,

 _People of Earth._

 _This is James T. Kirk, captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise._

 _We leave here today, not because we want to, but because we have to. We must find allies in our upcoming fight, not only for ourselves, but all life. For those who cannot defend themselves, and those who have fallen. As we go forward as a race, we must ask...above all else, we must ask, why. Why do we do things? Why… why must we act? It isn't the how, or the when... but the why. Only in this can we can find our salvation, and morality._

 _We will travel past the boundaries of this universe, beyond the farthest star and stretches of imagination._

 _We must cross into new realities; to seek out new life, and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before._

-The End-


End file.
